Jimmy the human. Well, vaguely human.
It’s been a long thirty years on the factory floor,
A robotic existence, but you’ve made a feed
For yourself and the factory fodder you and your wife
Spawned at intervals:
Funny how their conception times to
Celebrations of promotion and pay rises.
Like hey baby, I’m financial: let’s procreate!
Lest the mewling offspring howl in protest
At the jail term…
Shackled from birth to the machine
And worked to death
So fucked up!
Acres and acres of bricks and wire mesh, Halon globes burning bright with candle power greater than the sun; early morning overtime to pay the mortgage. Mile upon mile on weary legs and feet: varicose veins straining for release against tired old flesh. Trudging slowly uphill to catch the tram: faces drawing ground ward, eyes slumped like slag, cold and ready for the banality of another day on the job.
“See, you find one nice girl
You get to marry!
You both got job?
Ok, you save you money!
Always dumping wage into the bank.
You know, but food with wife wage…
2 years, maybe 3 you got
Twenty thousand dollars and you get loan.
Maybe 50-60 thousand. You buy a house!”
And you buy and you buy and you buy and you buy and you buy and you buy…
Down payments on a boneyard tenement
No running water
Who needs it, the dead make great tenants.
Yeah Jimmy I Know,
You walk mile after meaningless mile
Task after meaningless task
Worrying when production falls
When machinery breaks down,
The line runs faster
His tendons ache
Deaf to mid-range frequency
His eye, lost to an industrial accident.
The conveyor comes to a halt
Alarms and sirens
Precious production is being lost
Dollar after company dollar draining away
The factory screams:
This Cost: Me. ME!
The workers down tools for the duration. A young Vietnamese man offers his cigarettes to his workmate:
Almost a smile.