SFC7 - Musical Chairs (by Reid Stevens)

NOTE - The C.E.S. referred to is the old Australian Commonwealth Employment Service, now Centrelink.

I drove past the factory again yesterday
I guess I'm just used to going that way
The sign on the fence says eight bucks a square foot
Last month they were asking for ten

I wonder where all the others are now
Did they find jobs? Do they manage somehow?
They weren't a bad lot, you know, even the boss
I hope they fare better than me

The sign's still there But the T's fallen off
The grass is bare and the trees do it rough
In a million years it'll all turn to dust
But I'll still have debts to pay

So now I'm making friends at the C.E.S.
We stand in the queue hope they can sort out the mess
But I don't look in a mirror 'cause I know what I'll see
I'll look exactly like them

My wife, she must be sick of my sight
She talks to herself and cries in the night
They say it's hard times it's not that I've failed
But it's hard to distinguish sometimes

Surely someone can use the skill in these hands
It's always been needed before
I'm ready to do whatever demands
To get myself moving once more

But it's like musical chairs when you can't find a seat
You've just got to move off the floor
But this isn't a game 'cause no winners emerge
The last one just closes the door

Surely someone can use the skill in these hands
It's always been needed before
I'm ready to do whatever demands
To get myself moving once more

-- (Reid Stevens) --

Return to "Click" Index Page - Originally published in "Salvaged from Coreys" Volume 1 Issue 2