[Intro — spoken] I’m just like a normal human boy from Earth… Apparently that is not normal. Prost to Marc Bowers. [Verse 1] California sun in the bloodline, Missouri soil in the name, German roots, Midwest boots, still allergic to playing tame. He said, “Don’t lead an easy life—those roads get dull,” Then drove a delivery van with a club lock on the wheel. Ten jokes queued up, every meeting gets a set, Some are excellent, some are so bad you respect the threat. He’s learning español—“¿Dónde está la chicken?” If it don’t look like a cheeseburger, he’s deeply suspicious. Hidden in plain sight, not chasing applause, Finds a sleepy little factory and sees what it could cause. A weak link isn’t shame, it’s a thing you put in view: “Tell the team where it breaks—that’s what strong people do.” [Chorus — group chant] Lead an interesting life, not an easy one, Keep five good people when the long day’s done. Alle zusammen, we’re having some fun— Happy birthday, Marc, the adventure’s never done. Lead an interesting life, not an easy one, Ranch in a boat and a joke in the gun. Genau, Marc—keep the whole thing spun: Happy birthday, Marc, the adventure’s never done. [Verse 2] Baker’s Pride was wobbling, the numbers looked bleak, Marc rolled in like, “Give me a couple of weeks.” Not magic—just the hard, unglamorous art: Make it operational, profitable, build it part by part. He likes manufacturing things, manufacturing companies, Finding quiet capability behind ordinary properties. Then St. Louis Makes: lunch tables, plant tours, Ten thousand folks finding what the city was for. Good engineering, good finance, but the sales ops were thin, So he brought folks together, said, “Let’s let the data in.” Two factories meet, both find a hundred grand— That’s a handshake turning into better land. [Chorus] Lead an interesting life, not an easy one, Keep five good people when the long day’s done. Alle zusammen, we’re having some fun— Happy birthday, Marc, the adventure’s never done. Lead an interesting life, not an easy one, Ranch in a boat and a joke in the gun. Genau, Marc—keep the whole thing spun: Happy birthday, Marc, the adventure’s never done. [Verse 3] Straw blowers, hydromulchers, seed and fertilizer, “Margarita mixers,” only louder and wider. Four tons an hour, outrunning a seven-ton claim, Twenty-minute service where three hours once came. Three million in POs, machines still out there, Fifteen years later, still moving earth and air. When he opened the spreadsheet, fell through the Tron glow, Digital motorcycle, “I guess this is where we go.” Like a pool sweep, running circuits, keeping it clean, Eighteen-hour normal-human-boy routine. Opinions? Three kinds—data, informed, or bar-fight fuel; If you can’t tell which is which, you’re not using the tool. [Bridge — spoken / beat drops] Some mornings you wake beneath the Mallard of Judgment. He doesn’t speak. He just looks at you… like he knows you skipped the factory dashboard. So: call the people. Order chicken. Put ranch in a container large enough to respect the occasion. Celebrate Wolfenoot. Move the Q4 meeting into Q1. Let the Chinese food steep. Alles gut. [Final Chorus] Lead an interesting life, not an easy one, Keep five good people when the long day’s done. From the shop floor up to the California sun, Happy birthday, Marc—the adventure’s never done. Lead an interesting life, not an easy one, Three daughters traveling, the good work runs on. Prost, Marc Bowers, to what you’ve become: A normal human boy from Earth— and the adventure’s never done. [Outro] Happy birthday, Marc. Kein Problem. Just don’t let the Mallard see you eat a salad.
