Lyrics: Jane Street.
How lousy the world is with them!—
Who think they work to live
While in reality
They live to work!
They know nothing about living—
They do nothing remotely prejudicial to their jobs.
They don’t love work—
They know nothing of the joy of creation.
Their minds are on the money,
And the money goes for food—
That makes for brawn
That makes for jobs.
How they hurry on their jobs!
Not with the thrill of getting somewhere
Or having something,
But like speeding electrons
In unchangeable orbits.
How they scurry, off their jobs,
Knifing blindly at each other,
For fearsome other work pattern
Might be made by different vacancies.
All the deep purple of hidden murder
In the soul of man
For possession, for love, for power—
Leaks out in degenerate gray streaks
From the jealous eyes of jobites
Fearing for their jobs.
Oh, life is nothing
Unless something is worth
More than life!