I strive thru strife with hands of steel to find The way to the end of assembly lines. My back burns and my muscles ache as mind Over matter fails to sounds of metal gears wine. I am oppressed by labor with no clear Route out of this misery manifested now. I work my life away for all that’s dear And leave myself without time to ask ‘How’ Or ‘Why’ we live and die or why I cry. I sleep and work. I sleep and work beside The many I call my kin who laugh and sigh Aloud; absent any lie they do confide: “Although my blood is fuel to make things last, I shall pass, for I am the working class.” -MMF
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