Working on the edge
Losing my self-respect
For a man who presides over me
The principles of his creed
Punch in, punch out
Eight hours, five days
Sweat, pain and agony
On Friday I'll get paid

This ain't no picnic
This ain't no picnic
This ain't no picnic
This ain't no picnic

Hey mister don't look down on me
For what I believe
I got my bills and the rent
I should be content
But our land isn't free
So I'll work my youth away
In the place of a machine
I refuse to be a slave

This ain't no picnic
This ain't no picnic
This ain't no picnic
This ain't no picnic

HUSKER DU
Divide And Conquer Lyrics

Well they divided up all the land
And we've got states and cities
Cities have their neighborhoods
And more subdivisions

There's countries divided by walls
Oceans and latitudes
And longitude, longing to find out
Just what they're missing

They're lots of area codes
And nine digit zip codes
Secret decoder ring codes
Arteries, shopping nodes

We'll invent some new computers
Link up the global village
And get AP, UPI, and Reuters
To tell everybody the news

We'll be one happy neighborhood
Spread out across the world
But who's going to stop that burglar
From breaking in my house
If he lives that far away

We'll be just like old friends
No means to your ends
The police state is to busy
And the neighborhood's getting out of hand

It's not about my politics
Something happened way too quick
A bunch of men who played it sick
They divide, conquer

It's all here before your eyes
Safety is a big disguise
That hides among the other lies
They divide, conquer

Well I expect I won't be heard
Because my silence is assured
Never a discouraging word
They divide and conquer

They divide and conquer

If you like this check out his 1997 book The Conquest of Cool: business culture, counterculture, and the rise of hip consumerism.

Saw Vietnam as a partisan and wished I'd never been
As I held the rope on through the scope I wish I'd never seen
Where the air turned red as the bodies bled into a schoolboy's dream
But who were there could only stare into this wondrous scene

Yankee, to war
Yankee, head high
Yankee, in call
Yankee, we cry

In Germany in the forty five, my mind was on the altar
Thought of god, the iron rod and thought that needed shelter
From 'Tragen' pain and men insane and eyes that got much colder
Saw a German son with a Yankee gun and a uniform much older

Yankee, to war
Yankee, head high
Yankee, in call
Yankee, we cry
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Working for the Yankee dollar
Working for the Yankee dollar

Processions bear that human flare which mark a hero's welcome
For those dead and for those shed it was a big occasion
And all flags and Yankee mags which embroidered all the meaning
In an oversight, forgot the fight, which never bore elation

Yankee, to war
Yankee, head high
Yankee, in call
Yankee, we cry

Working for the Yankee dollar
Working for the Yankee dollar