Ghosts of glories reign here, clothes are shadows of former selves. Unsealing mother's eyes, the pigeons take flight as Monsignor’s ringing the church bells. Cinder-block car beneath the snow, my family wants and I want so much more than my wrinkles show. And the neighbors they've gone away. Dark house, all the drop-outs they play inside. I can't afford to stay, I can't afford to say goodbye.

The sad refrain that you won't ever make the grade. Tear it apart my rust belt heart.

Screams in the kitchen, all the bedroom tension. They're sending us home one week before we get pension. "Clean out your locker, gentlemen, we wish you the best" and then they watched the men walk down the suicide steps. Mother claws and scratches, she works part-time. All these steel-toed boots in the unemployment line. I have to remind myself I'm a good man. Tears remind us of what was or what may be like friction squealing unoiled machinery.

The sad refrain that you won't ever make the grade. Tear it apart my rust belt heart.