Banner hanging high across the gate reads "Welcome to the Family Core" Glossy posters preaching safety, smiling faces painted on the door Behind the front desk sits the crown, an HR friend who skipped the floor Never cut a coupler weld, never pulled a drawbar into line Brought in through an inside grip to call the shots and sign the sheet Covering the empty space with policies and plastic talk Running train builds blind as stone above the concrete and the steel. Slap the gloss upon the rust, dress it up and call it big, It’s nothing but lipstick on a pig. First shift catches fire quick beneath an angry leadman’s stride Suspended tags and DUIs, carrying a wrecked and bitter pride Hunting down the working men, baiting every movement on the line Poking till somebody snaps to feed her paper trail of fines When tempers flare at petty games, the office turns a blind machine Calling eighteen walkouts "lazy hands" to keep the favored enforcer clean. It’s lipstick on a pig on an outbound track, Corporate paint job while the steel turns black! Preach a friendly culture with a dagger in the grip, Sinking every good hand on a captain’s sinking ship! Badge the lie, dress the rig, It’s nothing but lipstick on a pig! But lipstick on a pig! Shift changes on the floor and brings another cushioned deal The second lead steps in the light, never laid a hand upon the steel Wife of a supervisor sitting high inside the shop A handshake through the kitchen door to plant her right on top No hours on the equipment, no sweat inside the bay Just handshakes in the shadows putting incompetence on display. Slap the gloss upon the rust, dress it up and call it big, It’s nothing but lipstick on a pig. Thirty-eight-dollar out-of-state rate handed to the favored friend While local rates at sixteen an hour are all they give the ones who bend Over subframes, heavy bogies, torquing under crane and chain Carrying the unearned weight of people insulated from the pain A cozy clique of backroom deals running lines they don't understand Turning honest building trades to petty kingdoms on command. It’s lipstick on a pig on an outbound track, Corporate paint job while the steel turns black! Preach a friendly culture with a dagger in the grip, Sinking every good hand on a captain’s sinking ship! Badge the lie, dress the rig, It’s nothing but lipstick on a pig! The signs say "Open Door" above an office locked and barred A trap set for the honest voice while cronies run the yard Scrap parts stacking in the dark, line delays in every stall While they blame the working rank for writing on the wall You can print the mission statement, throw a phony welcome sign But iron knows the difference when it's rolling down the line. Slap the gloss upon the rust, dress it up and call it big, It’s nothing but lipstick on a pig. Eighteen pairs of work boots take the long walk toward the gate No yelling at the supervisors, no arguing with crooked fate They drop the badges on the board, roll their boxes to the truck Leaving all the petty politics and paper schemes to run amok Let the managers and family ties go assemble their own train While the real builders leave them stalled and rusting in the rain.
