I wanted to put these hands to work, to see something honest come. Like dig them in the earth and grow a great lot of good things, that I could then put in a pot and to the table bring, where people that I love could sit at a table I made, with wood and nails and my own mind, in a simple earnest way.
But these good hands they worked away for abstract nothing things, to see a number in a column of another man's yearly earnings. Company's a lonely word, and full of lonely souls, that did not live out their ambitions, because they all were sold.
