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The faces of the dead are up early, making coffee and selling cigarettes, under fluorescent lights talking football and domestic strife, the shittier the job the earlier it starts, i should know i've held shit jobs my whole life, the flickering lights only add a dash of madness to hungover hands, my cough like spoiled milk, coffee to take the edge off sleep, dope to take the edge off life, donuts to feed the rumble, addicts each and every one of us, just make sure you're addicted to the right things... wine, chicken wings, exercise, new cars, hideous sweaters, sneakers, pop music, it's consumption makes the world go round, check the markets, you know i'm right...

My headlights illuminate the rusting shells of industry, the smell of diesel and a whiff of sewage, i drive therefore i am, need a car, Henry Ford didn't like trains, mainly cuz he didn't sell trains, another El Capitano of industry bought land and painted lines on it, charges me five bucks to leave the legacy of Henry Ford parked somewhat unsafe and sound, somewhere the Euro just advanced on the crumbling empire of the dollar, the suits in the office buildings watch tickers and gamble on horses that have no legs, all for the good of the nation, you know the 401k, the happy place in the sun where you go to die, but it seems the captains will drain the life out of us long before that, every time i make a cup of coffee i'm reminded of that...

Steel placed in lines, made into cubes, wrapped in concrete and plaster and dressed in glass, men and women with briefcases and luggage trudge through frigid air in pursuit of who knows? happiness? security? a Cadillac? taught and teaching that it's good to buy things, good to own things, that a good citizen will live beyond their means if it means happy times, so long as the barons of credit don't get to greedy and demand payment for the things bought on loan, number crunchers get creative to hide billion dollar mistakes, i watch the bills in my wallet shrink, i watch cowards on television tell me the sky is not falling though i was just knocked unconscious by the moon...

Some days it's better to stay naked in a warm bed than face the horror of city streets, to stare at the dead as they make coffee and talk on cell phones, better to pet the cat and let the captains of industry plot our demise in their never ending quest to accumulate more more more, but those days are tough to afford if i'd like a decent meal so i lift my creaking bones through the cold, i drink coffee with the dead, i give a dead auto tycoon the bird and the living ones the same.