Pull a shot and judge what you will serve your customers today

The taste of that shot lingers on your tongue, wanting to stay

Your eyes wander to every person you see

Then you begin to grind the small coffee beans

You wish to know every single customers story

Yet you’re just a barista who’s shift will be done shortly

So instead keep your eyes down, refill the coffee machine

Take in the smell of those fresh whole beans

For they will be grinded and turned into powder

They’ll become long gone by the end of the hour

Just like the beans, customers come and go

And the stories you wish to seek, you will never know

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