I rise like a dead man alive;
A walking, talking, breathing, eating
Corpse that's trying to revive
Its human sense of dignity.
The house is full of mine and theirs,
The furniture, the memories.
The clothing strewn upon the stairs
Reminds me of my solitude.
I work all day, from dawn til dark,
Pulling, pushing, sweating, aching.
If I fail to make the mark
The whip comes down upon my face.
The goal is ever out of sight,
The numbers, shouts, the creaks and groans
Of metal never stop, til night
Comes down upon our simple lives.
The noise rings ever in my ears,
A gnawing, biting, throbbing pounding
Pulse that pushes through the years;
The price for progress is my life.