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Took my badge from the chain,
laid it flat in the drawer
Boots by the wall with no road anymore
Ten feet away, that new arm got its frame Calibrating its gears
while I gathered my name
The machine don't sleep
But it don't dream neither
No, it don't dream neither
Two in the morning,
the idling truck
Through the chain-link, the iron don't stop
No lights in the house,
they don't need them to see
Working the line while it's working on me
Hands forty-four years of knowing the steel
Knowing the weight and the way it should feel
Four-forty AM,
they wake on their own
Reaching out wide for a table of stone
Just a folding table leaning in the dark garage
The machine don't sleep But it don't dream neither