The Dying Breed - The Working Man

Like an haggard picture displaying for the last time

He walks the worn pavement to the old factory,

And he weakens under his thoughts

as he sends himself into the oblivion.

A broken town echoes into his peripherals

While the ruins of his past dance in his mind.

He'll dance right along with it.

In him, is the end of a generation,

His work ethic unrivaled and unique...

Shall never be met again.