FUN with the vocalizer.

Back in the early '80's, my pal Frank (alias Sir Bubbles Varoom) had a fascination with abandon car plants in Detroit and books and stories about the Depression. He took polaroid photos of rusty buildings around Zug Island and then headed to the local bar to get more smashed. All that stopped when he fell through a rotted floor and filled his legs with pins and pain. Except for the getting smashed part. He favored little red brick bars near the Rouge River plants around shift change time. He liked to watch the workers. He learned to emulate their walk and dressed like them. It was one phase of a serious long-term Hemmingway-complex.
Along the way, he wrote song lyrics. They were mostly bits and pieces on cocktail napkins or little promotional flyers from a bank lobby. I would collect them when possible from the floor of his car. That way I could do what he never did… finish something. I stitched something together that finally met with his approval. He insisted it be clumsy and ungrammatical because that is how they talk down at the little red brick bar. I can tidy it up now because he can't stop me.
He also had a fascination with those two tiny ladies that lived in a box in the old monster movies.

Narration by Fiz Weld


How can we be so cruel?
How can we be so kind?
Why can't we do what we're told?
why is our share served out in the cold?
In this land so pressurized
by tickling fingers on invisible hands
The New Deals of the demigods
always keep the soupline manned

We are handed out a dole
in a state-issued bowl
Get in line and pay the toll
to receive your own soul
The lesson that we preach
is life is not a peach
How can we be so cruel?
How can we be so kind?
Who bakes this corporate pie?
I never bargained for you
You never bargained for me
Let's write it off as manifest destiny
Work the line! Stamp it! Shape it!
Cold polled steel! For product and progress!
Mother's breast-assembly line-animal machine
Now don't confuse it!
Tow the line read the sign
This is fine the fault's not mine
Mechno-facture each artifact as a prayer
and a hymn to steel sky
Ambition is a sinful lust
stay in line in God we trust
Here's a slice of moldy bread
stay in line better time's ahead
If life is not a peach
if the pie is out of reach
if a lie is what we preach
with excuses that we teach
For that we live and breathe
For that we must concede
Our surrender leads to victory
on the soupline to paradise