Not really looking for any critique or suggestions on this one as it's very old and not part of the current set, or potential set, but posted here as in its own way it's a little slice of my life.
My band of around 40 years ago used to play this. Written by a teenage me who's life sort of mirrored a character in the song, rather than the narrator...
Forty YearsForty years of breaking my back for the man in the company car
He wears a pinstripe suit and a bowler hat, and he smokes a King Edward cigar
He pats my back, he won't shake my hand, because there's oil and dust and grime
He smiles a golden-filling smile, and says I'm doing fine,
Doing just fine.
I'm the man on the production line, I feel like I'm a man who's doing time
I got forty years for just being born, they may as well have let me die.
I scream at night, because I dream at night, that I'll die in the factory
And no-one will find these bones of mine as they crumble over my machine.
My machine
Forty years.
I got forty years.
Forty years.
Forty years.
Old man Pete retired last week after forty years with the firm.
All he got was a silver watch and a pension he may as well burn.
I watched him go and I saw myself in thirty-five years time.
They took his life, they stole his life, but they sure as hell won't get mine.
No, no, no.
Forty years...
Cheers
Derek