Factories

I feel the steam of the thunderous trains.
The I-beam rivers pour life down the drain.
Assembly lines churn out cars just like rabbits.
We think they'll give us time, but we just can't have it.
My diet furthers the workingman's plight.
I feed the system with every bite.
The field worker--well, he's still around.
But soon they'll program androids to pick Brussels sprouts.
Sometimes I dream of a world that does not gleam.
The lights of industry grow dim.
I want to tear the factory down and let the boiler rust.
I feel the tension rolled up like a spool
locked in the grid of a bright steno pool.
Mountains of documents are eating you--you're overwhelmed.
Are you a human being or just another Versatell?
I hear the hum of the integrated circutry.
It's growing stronger, and it's sucking out my memory.
Data files: They simply can't make sense of me.
Have we evolved or is this just eternal entropy?