The lynx upon the ledge looks on the lot
And smells the tar rise up on the slow wind
A car appears and pulls into a spot
Rundown worn out he walks across the tar
Six stars fade out above the line of trees
The building's lights, the beeps, the rising bar
The man walks through although he wants to flee
The lynx descends and lopes up to the gate
He leaps and lands and springs into the plant
The ringing tin as cans go into crates
The hands that lift the boxes to be scanned
The man looks up and swears he sees a lynx
Just nine more hours left today he thinks
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