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