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.