Archivist Workbench v3.0

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Lyrics:

(Verse 1)
I saw you standing in the line,
Waiting for the Work Coach to call your name.
Little drops of perspiration on your brow—
It isn’t all that hot in here at all.
But I think you’re under stress,
And rather worried.

(Verse 2)
You brought your folder, neat and alphabetised,
Every rejection letter, duly emphasised.
But subsection 7B was left unverified.
I could see the panic blooming in your eyes.

(Chorus)
And the Work Coach is waiting with her checklist and her screen,
You’re balancing your whole life on what “actively” must mean.
One signature missing, one date unclear,
Could leave you with nothing for month after month, my dear.

(Verse 3)
They don’t take the housing element—not straight away, that is—
But you’ll spend that rent money on food and electric,
’Till you’re falling behind, slipping into arrears…
Smiling through the fear, hiding unshed tears.

(Bridge – spoken softly over a faltering piano)
They sanctioned my neighbour last Tuesday week.
His crime? A bus ticket… and confidence meek.
So I look at your papers… I tidy my tie…
And I hope… that it’s not my turn… by and by.

(Final Chorus – more intense, more personal)
’Cause the Work Coach is waiting with her clipboard and her rules,
And we’re all just one mistake from being called fools.
One wrong answer, one poorly phrased plea,
And it’s not just you, love—it could also be me.

(Outro – music fades to a solitary, repeating piano note)
No, I am not the sort of man who makes a fuss or shouts,
But I am the sort who knows what this is all about.
So I straighten my jacket… I check my own sheet…
And pray for us all in the universal heat.

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