Production line,
chasing mechanical dreams,
I’m not just a number.
Balances gain interest,
but who yields the profit?
Can you measure a man by the line of his credit?
I’m worth more than the sum of my parts;
equations don’t add up.
Heed this warning don’t go chasing
American dreams, ripping at the seams.
Work lies sex love fear hate friendship,
in fifty years you’ll be in the ground.