It's all wrinkled elbow shirts and poker faces on this bus
  Back to a nitch dug just like a ditch in this city's weathered crust
  but there's something about this city's gray
  that seems to say all there is to say
  Riddled with regiment, vindictive intent
  Faking loyalty and getting paid
  Fuck them all
  She keeps the variety section and then gives the rest to me
  She says she remembers when buses were nicer
  "There's no dignity in plastic seats"
  But there's something about the way she said
  "The only good boss is one that's dead"
  These broad shoulders giggled all over the bus
  And work ethics crumbled into "them and us"
  Fuck them all
  And all these specters of the work place
  Turned from effigy into reality
  And yeah I wish it was that simple
  To think a belly laugh is really all we need
  But it's the slow decay of the day to day
  That says take your pay check, accept your place and fade away
  but there was dignity in plastic seats that day