The Apprentice

Written by: 
J. Martyn
1 Oct 1987

I work at the station
At the heart of the nation,
I tell you no lie.
I keep the pace
In the energy race,
I never ask why.

I tell you the boss don't care.
I know that the boss don't care,
He don't even talk to me.
Tell me, what's wrong,
What's wrong with the life I live;
Tell me, what's wrong,
What's wrong with this world im in.

Wouldn't it be good to get out of here,
Wouldn't it be good to get out of here,
Wouldn't it be good to get out of here,
Wouldn't it be fine to get out.

As cool as a river,
Safe as a baby,
So they say.
So quiet, so cleanly,
Shining discretely,
Working away.

I tell you the boss don't care.
I know that the boss doesn't care,
He don't even talk to me.
Tell me, what's wrong
What's wrong with this life I live;
Please tell me, what's wrong,
What's wrong with this life I live.

My eyes are so heavy.
They follow the water
Down to the stream.
My conscience is cloudy.
My heart gets so weary,
It cannot be, it never was my dream.

I tell you the boss don't care, don't care.
I know that the boss don't care,
He don't even talk to me.
Tell me, what's wrong,
What's wrong with this life I live.
Please tell me, what's wrong,
What's wrong with this world im in.
Tell me,
What's wrong with this life I live?

Tell me, what's wrong, what's wrong.

sitenote:
John was moved to write The Apprentice having met a particularly ill looking man in a pub near the Sellafield nuclear recycling plant in Cumbria.

First release: