Fuck the Working Class

It's that repressed creative impulse snuffed into timeclock drone drone drone - but hey, least you got a job - drone drone drone and the day goes by and the TV hums and the SUV runs and the ladies on the weekend go grind grind but still the weekend goes by and then it's Monday Tuesday Wednesday, coffee grinds and Fox News by satellite, pills that come in pocket sized packets, little Coronas that come in fake plastic buckets, ganja weed in your rice crispies - whatever gets you by - cause the timeclock's grooving and it's got a twenty dollar bill for each tick you take with it so tick tick, tick tick and twitch twitch, tick until you've earned enough to earn a little bit more cause people there is jewelry, there are gold chains and diamonds to be paid for and you ain't gonna catch that kinda coin with your head bobbin brain in the air singin hey hey Jerry are you up there man cause there's a silence in the land that the recordings can't fill and I'm too fucking spaced to put the turntable needle in the right place: This is not a joke - there's no time for acid cocked spinal grooves, not when there's a straight cocked shadow skull stalking our skull bobbin rhythm, not when there are watches to be paid for, big fat beef eater Rolexes that say my job is better than yours, my car is faster than yours, my dick is bigger than yours, my bank account got more get up and go go than your kickstart poor man's agenda, than your dry-joint hungover Monday morning Tuesday morning Wednesday morning gotta get up and go go sort of dread filled wastefulness that drags until your watch, which isn't a Rolex, no longer ticks and the only tick you got left is the tick of another two weeks gone by and a paycheck in your hand that says, "Come on baby, let's go buy a new watch."