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Assembly Line Blues
Miles and miles
Of rusty rolling pins
Rattle their complaints to me.
Hey, I have complaints of my own;
I don’t like this anymore than you do.
Monotonous mountains of boxes
Act as bookends,
Feed and relieve the river of rollers,
(Always a pile of empty,
Always a pile of full).
Even the shadows here are static,
They don’t move with sun
‘Cause fluorescent light can’t shine.
But as always –
The boxes are bumping
And the rollers are rolling
And my hands are hurting
And my heart is desirous.
My heart is desirous
And it desires a fire.
Maybe, just maybe,
If I can fill faster and push harder –
If I can talk these rambling rollers
Into spinning till they spark,
If I can drive these
Boxes on down the river of heat,
They will feel my desire.
They will carry it like a fuse
Down to the mountains
That’ll burst their tops like M-80’s
And I’ll set this
Ole’ day-in day-out assembly line
On FIRE.
Me, I’m not a flamer.
I just can’t stand to see
The same g-----n box
Keep rollin’ on by.
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