Overalls hang on an old body with an oil can in hand
Walking over to the machine an inventor long since forgotten
His old bones kneel next to the rusted box
Unhinging the lock as it squeaks with pain
Revealing the matching color of rust while wheels and wires turn at a rapacious pace
The machine is older than him but the owner doesn't care "Keep the machines running!", he said.
He takes his oil can and begins to pour the black life onto the gears
The oil encompass everything making the gears spin faster and faster
Cleaning the way while the old gunk of the oil of before clings to the gears but slowly falls away
A breath of new life like a soul realizing its body ignites throughout the machine
The old man takes his dirty cloth from his back pocket of his overalls and begins to clean away the gunk as if it never existed
He knows one day it will break down
These machines will give out
He's tired of reviving the machines with souls who will be grinded into nothingness
Closing the metal flap he wonders when things will change.