Used to be the co-op, hired every hand in sight,
Now combines roll themselves, workin' day and night.
Folks ain't earned much but the sting of hard-won truth,
And Friday nights at the bar, lost the fire of youth.
From the bottle's sorrow, a soul's mournful plea,
To a rumble and a bang, for all the world to see.
The old songs whispered, 'bout the demons in your head,
Now it's just "vroom" and "boom," and the old ways are dead.
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