Pay Packets

I put my money on the table only took what I deserved
Friday night was just for me Saturday was me and her
Sundays for the family I guess it was a rigid routine
But sometimes it's the boring that keeps you going
And keeps your nose clean

Rumors have been rife in the factory ever since I've worked there
A wave of silence drowned the machinery din in mid air
The suits were out in force across the factory floor
But this time the rumors couldn't be ignored
Six hours later they closed the factory doors

Eighteen months later I'm moping around like a big black cloud
Feeling so down on myself waiting to explode right out loud
The same curse that drives you to work each day
Was burning me up eating my heart away

Something dark deep inside just came to light
A rush of blood and his fist clenched tight
He bids the world goodbye
And inside the pocket of his old work jacket
Was this suicide note in an old pay packet