Good Job

Said the foreman to the hand, 'it's my role to understand It's yours to watch the clock and pull the knob' Then he turned on his heel, walked the rows of pounding steel Beneath his breath said, 'I feel I've done a good job' My great-great-grandfather Ike didn't want to go on strike But conditions at the mill were miserable When he fanned the union flame, got a pink slip in his name He never was the same without a job Knew a guy who worked next door, he ain't working there no more No one told him about the oil on the hob When it spilled all down his knees, cooked his legs a few degrees Workman's comp and legal weed do a good job Best be grateful for the grind, forty hours hard to find If you ain't exhausted you must be a slob When a paycheck's only meant for gas, electric, food, and rent Spend your last two cents resenting a good job If I could write songs all day, I swear, I'd have a million plays And a McMansion for some street kid to rob When I'm tied up on the floor and they drag duffels out the door I'll say "take a little more, and hey, good job" I would rather not get paid than be drinking the kool-aid I would sooner join the circus or the mob Than another nickel throw at failed distraction from sorrow A life whose only hope is a good job If the dollars that I owed could a field of flowers grow Every seedling become rose would sing "good job"