I Owe My Soul

I owe my soul to the company store
On the long subway tunnel between the A train and the N train at 42nd Street someone has hammered white placards on every sixth overhead beam, like a morose Burma Shave ad.

Overslept/
So tired/
If late/
Get fired/
Why bother/
Why the pain/
Go home/
And do it again.

Who did this? It’s a Sixteen Tons for a generation of slack, glazed office workers.