5. WHAT I LEARNED IN 2009, part 1:

It occurs to me that before I start blogging about how PHISHING revisions are going, I could share one of the most important lessons that I believe I’ve learned in the last two years. It’s probably quite obvious to most of you, but it was a revelation to me.

I actually can’t remember which one of my theater teachers taught me this, however I’ve known for years that published plays include a transcription of the play’s first production blocking and designs. I understand that transcription is generally struck from a play by actors and directors in rehearsal during subsequent productions. I’ve done it myself with a sturdy black felt-tip pen.

What I didn’t realize until last year is that some actors and directors see no difference between the transcription and the playwright’s descriptions. In fact they may be indistinguishable from each other, and I’ve been told that OC storefront theater directors and actors strike them all.

I am not sure if this is endemic in all professional theater training programs or just storefront theaters in the OC, or if it’s even a factual representation of what is actually taking place in rehearsals at all, but I was shocked when I first learned it might be true.

If I remember correctly, Tennessee William’s depiction of the United States and southern American life in 27 WAGONS FULL OF COTTON made my descent into Flora’s world possible. I studied acting with Jose Quintero in college. I don’t remember him saying so, but I was reminded at dinner recently that he encouraged us to read the descriptions.

Yet in the last two years when I have occasionally looked back at my role in PHISHINGs 2008 failure, I discovered that beyond personality differences and conflicting work ethics, beyond my ease with and apparent overuse of electronic communications, beyond every awful name I may have been or may still be called behind my back, the bottom line is, I realize that PHISHINGs director and music director misunderstood my play and that the blame, if any should be assigned, was NOT their own.

More later…

Erica Bennett

4. PHISHING (2010)

Last month I was surprised when PHISHING called out to me from the drawer begging for air. The 2008 play is set post-Katrina on a Louisiana bayou, and is centered on a young woman, J.J. (Justice Jaeger), an expert computer hacker, who is hired by a Presidential candidate to “fish” for dirt about a much hated rival. The story starts there revealing J.J.s traumatic youth and search for self. The time is now.

However PHISHING is challenged by a whole new set of dramatic circumstances today; we’re now post-2008 Presidential election, post-2010 John Edward’s baby/mama reveal, and only beginning to realize the full tragedy of the Gulf of Mexico oil-spill disaster. Three weeks ago I decided to cut the songs, alter the antagonist’s gender from male Janus to female Janis, change one character’s ethnicity from Black to Latino, and gender-bend another; male or female. Yet how these events change and shape character arcs and motivations, I have yet to imagine.

Whatever PHISHING finally turns out to be, I begin the rewriting process today. I am leaving the house soon to meet with a group of young actors and their instructor in the Los Angeles environs to witness a performance and discuss casting. On Thursday, June 10th we read from the play, and discuss it. I am invited to return on Tuesday, June 15th with revisions.

I look forward to sharing my reflections with the LAFPI blog as I begin the process of rewriting a work so representative of old heartache, as well as revitalized hope and vision for its and my future.

More tomorrow…

Erica Bennett

3. AND TIME GOES BY, part two:

In December 2009 I also began a new play, WATER CLOSET. It is about two women of Dutch-German descent, who are dealing with the effects of two wars nearly sixty years apart; a revised draft was completed in May, and submitted to several theaters and contests around the country.

In the summer of 2009 my cowboy play in one-act, JOLLY AND BEAN, was stage-read at the Newport Theatre Arts Center for the Orange County Playwrights Alliance of which I am an active member. In the fall of 2009 my play about a young Asian-American woman whose life is flashing in front of her eyes, FREED, received a staged-reading at the 2nd Annual Laguna Beach New Play Festival, and at the LA Women’s Theatre 20% New Works Festival.

The last three theatre experiences are particularly remarkable in that they all began similarly to PHISHING. One, I chose the directors; the last three were all led by the same professional female director, PHISHING was led by a different professional female actor/director. In all four cases I worked with and assisted the directors as Producer, and revised the scripts. In all four cases, we made casting decisions together, as collaborators. In all four cases, we also determined together that I would only go to the rehearsals to which they invited me.

However, the last three theatre experiences sharply differ from PHISHING in that they were all allowed to develop and grow naturally over time without the gross interference by a non-professional without any apparent formal theater training or education.

For after my faith in her direction of my words and story was securely understood by all, those three theatre experiences actually grew to the point where I was invited by the director to give notes to her actors. She clearly understood that I was working only to support her vision of my material, because I had collaborated enough in its development to trust that she was working toward achieving mine. Bingo: faith, trust, collaboration; that’s what I had been seeking all along.

While it’s also pretty clear that I haven’t been sitting around for two years wallowing and worrying about my 2008 OC storefront theater failures, it was only after those three last awesome theatrical experiences that my PHISHING wounds finally began to heal.

More later…

Erica Bennett

2. AND TIME GOES BY, part one:

I began writing plays in 1999 to escape the horrors of chemotherapy. Ten years later I remain a dedicated librarian and archivist who writes plays. I was informed just this past Thursday that I am also ten-years cancer-free from Hodgkin’s lymphoma. However, I am not certain that cancer survivors can ever really turn off the ticking clock.

Earlier this year I decided that I no longer write for anybody else but me; no short contests, or 24-hour festivals. I am freshly committed to writing dramatic plays about American women, regardless of ethnicity or country of origin, and the quintessential issues that confound us: men and babies, or lack thereof. LOL.

However by the fall of 2008 I was just fairly recovered from my PHISHING experience, and I began directing and producing the first production of my 2006 one-act play for students, EL PRIMER DIA DE CLASES. Over the 2008/2009 academic school year the play was co-produced by several and featured twenty or more community college students, who were taking classes in my college’s Ethnic Studies Department. This unique group of young adults had organized, discovered and read my play, and decided to adopt it as one of their several projects. I was extremely grateful to be honored in this fashion.

The play was actually the culmination of my 2002-2005 work as a UCLA graduate student in library science where I also achieved an emphasis in archival studies. It was while researching a classroom assignment that I first connected viscerally to the story of a young Orange County Latina, Sylvia Mendez, who was denied entrance to an all-white elementary school in the mid-1940s because of the color of her skin. It became my mission to bring her story out of the archives for the benefit of the community, who I thought would benefit most from its retelling.

For those unfamiliar with it, Ms. Mendez’ story grew into a matter of national historical significance. Her father, Gonzalo Mendez, led a group of five fathers representing 5000 children of Latin or Mexican descent in a class action lawsuit entitled Mendez et al. v. Westminster School District of Orange County et al. in the California federal courts in 1945. The case won on appeal in 1947 ultimately desegregating California, and setting the precedent for Brown vs. Board of Education, which desegregated the United States seven years later.

Early in 2009 my play was chosen to be included in the new California Social Studies Civil Rights curriculum for primary and secondary school teachers. I followed up in the spring of 2009 by writing formal oral history interview questions with students and with the college produced, and directed the videotaping of memories of as many of the surviving family members related to the case as I was able to contact and coordinate.

In the fall of 2009 I cut a forty-minute documentary film with a talented student editor that wove together video of the play’s production with the oral histories. TALES OF A GOLDEN STATE: THE MENDEZ V. WESTMINSTER STORY screened in November 2009 for the community, and was submitted to a local public broadcaster. We were invited to share the film in full and in part with audiences at the Nixon Presidential Library and the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles in early 2010.

More in a second or two…

Erica Bennett

1. PHISHING (2008)

In December 2007/January 2008 I wrote a play with music entitled PHISHING for what the OC terms a “storefront theater” whose main requirement was that it be set on the same set as their A-show scheduled in the 8pm slot. It was selected for production, my third at this theater. However, two weeks before it opened, after the second rehearsal on the set, I recommended that it be pulled from production after witnessing and being a party to a perfect theatrical storm. It was.

Long story short, early in pre-production, with the infinite wisdom attainable only from years of labor as a kitchen cabinet refinisher, storefront theater actor, guitarist in a touring band, and so much more, the music director I had attached to the project, who I considered a friend and who was also an insider at the theater where the play was being produced, told me that I had written a “good” play, but that I needed to “go away”, so that he and the director could make it “great”. Our relationship never recovered.

My happy baggage includes a BA in Theater with an emphasis in Acting and an MLIS with an emphasis in Archival Studies. I have read some more than once of the great playwright autobiographies, including Moss Hart’s ACT ONE, which had an indelible impact on me. I’ve read a great many plays, acted in and witnessed many more.

I actually pursued a career in the entertainment industry working as a writer’s assistant with dramatic television writers, several of whom are female show runners. I worked in LA in this capacity for approximately ten years before leaving to reeducate myself, and finally achieved my position as a community college faculty librarian in the OC in the fall of 2006.

Thus I came to this theater specifically in early-2007 hoping not only to become involved with the community I had just moved into, but also with the naïve? understanding that in the professional theatre at least, the playwright is considered an important collaborator.

What I was told directly, and indirectly when I didn’t “go away” because I was attached to the production as Producer, was that storefront theater actors are intimidated by the presence of the playwright in rehearsal. In other words “actors get confused about who’s in charge”, and that their theater is a director’s medium.

While I am trained to understand this to be true in film, in my experience television is very much a writer’s medium, and I believed that the theatre was sacrosanct. I am a trained actor, yet conversely, I always longed for access to the playwright. So theirs were philosophies I didn’t understand, even as much as I agree that the prospect of meeting the playwright is daunting.

Ultimately, however, the result was that this theater and I had extreme difficulty reconciling my expectations and training with theirs, so I pulled my other new drama scheduled for production in the fall of 2008, and walked away.

More tomorrow…

Erica Bennett

Study to Show Yourself Approved…

Study to show yourself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.”  2 Timothy 2:15.

The above is one of my favorite scriptures.  I hear it in my head when I am chug-a-lugging along pushing against the stones.  It is a sort of affirmation for me; encouraging me to continue the study of seemingly unconnected things – dirt, music, planets, etc…  I am always reading tidbits here and there about this or that…studying…to release stress or because I run across something that gets my attention.  The information bits always come in handy especially when I need to meet a deadline and don’t have time to research (because the play I just spent all my time researching is not ready to be written so I have to write something else and write it quickly).  I notice that my subconscious will unflinchingly pull a tidbit from the annals of my mind that will fit…perfectly…into whatever I am writing.  I used to think that I had all this useless information in my head and what wasn’t useless was so disconnected that finding what to connect it to would be a serious challenge.  Except…when interpreting dreams, I find the tidbits come in handy.  In dreams, all information is relevant as it can reveal the unknown, all that disconnected information finally serves a purpose.  I believe that is why dream sequences show up in my work; it’s part of who I am as a woman, part of that “write what you know” thing.  I know dreams, flashbacks, and things of the spirit… 

There is a play, Body Indian, by playwright Hanay Geiogamah.  In this play, Geiogamah uses the sound/symbolism of a train; his notes set up the business of the train. 

“6. There should be a loud, rushing sound of a train starting off on a journey to signal to the audience that the play is beginning and Bobby’s entrance can be emphasized by the distant sound of the train.” Hanay Geiogamah

I could hear that train for months after reading the piece; it was haunting… moving…beautiful.  It affected me.  It made me want to create moments like that in my own writing.  As long as I am stretching myself as a writer, I know that eventually I will be where I envision myself.  When I write, I hear sounds in my head sometimes but I had never thought to make the sound a character until I read Body Indian.  Perhaps that is just my response to the piece but the train was a profound presence.  An acting instructor of mine told me that if I could see it so would the audience.  I could see that train as I read; I must admit, I have been devouring Geiogamah’s work ever sense.  How to make the sounds visible — that is the question.

In the night, as I write, I like to listen to music, especially violins. I have begun a play called Fiddler’s Bridge; it is my hope to make the sound visible in this piece.  I am listening — as it finds its way to the page — for the sound of its song…

Those of us, who ride the night winds and the morning breezes, who straddle the fence of crazy and sane, must study…always…at our craft.  Earning the “wright” in playwright through diligence and preparation…unashamed and unapologetic for the feats we attempt.  We are the catalogers of our time and must all play our part in marking his/her/our/story.  We must continually grow as artists so our gardens are full of fresh vegetables and herbs and words…that communicate humanity or if so be inhumanity…

On the Matter of Subject…

I’d like to think that I am open to write about almost any subject matter.  The journey from a thought to choosing the angle to take and researching any unknowns is never the same with each piece I write – always fascinating but never the same.  What can be the same are the moments before I reach page four — those tense moments when I am feeling like a complete fraud and I’m kicking myself because I had the audacity to think I could write that story that way.  I have started a task and it seems daunting.  Those moments I get a little stuck on rewind and time constraints can make it worse.  There is nothing as intimidating as knowing that the play in your head is the one you need to submit and the deadline is nearing and you haven’t gotten to page four let alone gotten to the middle of page three.  Stopped, right at the top of the page, with an air bubble stuck between the period and the next line.  Those are “playwright quote times” which for some reason, reading blurbs about writing calms me down enough to allow my germinating time to finish up its odds and ends.  I tend to forget that I tell myself I will write two or three pages — just to get started — and then let it germinate a while longer before I really get into it.  I usually remember after I have calmed down.  When writing my last play, I remembered…then forgot…then remembered again.  I felt like I was stuck in that Groundhog Day movie.  I should probably paste a note on my mirror but I probably won’t read it because I’ll be busy trying to get to page four from the “first words.”  And, who knows, Groundhog Day might be a needed part of my germinating process from time to time.  I am so preoccupied with getting past page three that my subconscious is free to organize information and listen to the other voices – the ones with the secrets.  I must admit, I am most intrigued by the secret things…and the layers that cover them.  Traveling into the unknown to find out the “why” and “how” of it all, is worth it every time.  It is during these journeys that I truly find out what the subject matter really is…  By page four, I know from what depth the play is coming and whether or not the subject matter at hand is what I thought it was when I began the piece.  By the end of the first act, I will be able to write a brief outline for the rest of the play and gauge how long it will take to reach the end which may mean submitting it the next year.  I used to think “next year” was so far away but there is so much to do in between now and then, it turns out to be just around the corner…

Knowing Your Place and Your Story…

Most of my life, people have tried to put me in a place.  This place is usually wherever they think I should be based on who they think I am.  In my quest to know myself and to know my voice as a storyteller, I have had to make it a point to stay true to who I know myself to be.  Round pegs don’t fit into square holes; square blocks don’t fit into round holes, nor, do 41-inch hips fit into a size 4 pair of pants.  Tried it.  You might get in them by some miracle but you aren’t getting out of them without a fight or a pair of good cutting shears.  Lost a favorite pair of jeans that way…oh, the memories…I had purchased them when I was stationed in Germany, they were black and had straight legs, and – I digress.  I was stuck in them for two days, thank God for undies that snap.  There is nothing like a jolt of reality to make you pay attention to what happens when things don’t fit which is why one must know one’s own place in this world.  The wrong influence can send you off on a wild goose chase or land you in a pair of pants that you have outgrown.  Growing, in itself, is not a bad thing but ill-fitted clothing can be a hot mess.  Knowing yourself as an artist will help you navigate the waters no matter what changes around you.

Some years ago, I attended a conference where the playwrights were assigned directors to direct the reading of their pieces.  One of the playwrights at the conference got a director who chopped her 20 minute scene up so bad; we weren’t able to give her any feedback on her original scene.  The whole purpose for the playwrights to attend the conference was to hear their work read.  I had to stop the same director from adding lines that did not belong into my 20 minute piece.  I explained to this director that I wanted to hear what I had written; if, after hearing it read, I wanted to change something, it would be my choice.  I knew my piece.  I knew what I had written and why and I wanted to hear it as written; I also knew my rights as a playwright (see Dramatists Guild Bill of Rights http://www.dramatistsguild.com/files/DGBillofRights.pdf) so, I spoke up – not only to the director but also to the conference runners in the “after conference” survey.  The magic that is supposed to happen when a piece has the right director is something to aim for (I’ve had it and oh, the ride is rich and full of surprises, confirmations, and just out and out joyous moments.).  Twenty minutes isn’t a lot of time; it wasn’t a showcase on directing though a reading done well does just that, it was a snippet of a play read for the playwright’s benefit.  From my 20 minutes, I was able to tell that the audience liked my story and wanted to hear more which let me know I was on the right track.  I asked the other playwright why she allowed the director to move things around in her piece (which even with the disjointing of the scene we could tell she was an excellent writer, we just didn’t know what her story was supposed to be about); she said she didn’t know she could stop the director from making changes.  I told her to join the Dramatists Guild www.dramatistsguild.com .  Information is liberating. 

As a playwright, collaboration with other theater artists will enter the process; it is a given.  Part of what makes theater so powerful is the collective gifting of the playwrights, directors, actors, set designers, costumers, lighting and sound techs, etc. who all add to the theater experience.  Just last August, I had a play read in North Carolina.  The group of actors and director who came together to breathe life into my words were so phenomenal.  A character thought to be unnecessary (by panel members) at a previous reading proved to be quite necessary in this one.  The director understood the character.  The director, also, knew how to pull this character out of the actress portraying the character.  The actress knew her craft and knew how to stretch…  Where I was unable to hear the true voice at the previous reading, I was blown away at the second one.  I had suspected that Indigo had something to say and am eternally grateful to the actress, Antonia McCain, who gave Indigo her moments.  I am, also, grateful to the director, Melinda J. Morais, and all of the other actors and actresses who contributed to that reading for list see http://ladybyrdcreations.com/byrd_sightings.  I could hear the harmony building from page to voice, hinting at the stage…

The quest for harmony is an intricate part of what I do when I create.  I try, with each play, to access the artists circle – a place, my place, where all things are equal.  There is neither male nor female in my artists circle – only songs of the soul and rhythms of the spirit – and that circle is sacred.  If I did not know what my place/purpose is, I would never be able to regulate where I should be at any given time.  My journey would be undefined.  I would not know which stories are mine to tell and which ones are for some other writer.  Knowing my place in the artists circle helps me stay focused on keeping the “waste of time factor out of the equation – out of the place where stories are born…

 

Waiting…

In 1986, I enlisted into the Army, going through Basic Training at Fort Dix in the dead of winter was a shock to my system to say the least.  “You have three orders soldier:  1. Do as you’re told.  2. Do as you’re told.  3. Do as you’re told.  Stay alert, stay alive!”  An onslaught of training, 4 am wake ups, alerts, and “hurry up and wait” was the norm.  It seemed that we waited forever for everything and when we weren’t waiting, we were training…hard.  Once while waiting in line, I asked a drill sergeant if I could sleep.  “Sure, as long as you remain standing.  Do not lean on the wall.  Do not lean on your buddy.  Stand ‘at ease’ the whole time; you can sleep all you want.”  He laughed and walked away.  I promptly went to sleep standing two inches from the wall in the ‘at ease’ position just about to start snoring when….  “Is she touching the wall.”  “No, she’s about two inches away from it.”  “Is she sleep?”  “She looks sleep.”  “Byrd.  Byrd!  Are you sleep?”  “Yes, drill sergeant.  I was sleep.  You said I could sleep as long as I didn’t touch the wall.”  “How in the ___ are you doing that?”  “I don’t know drill sergeant.”  “Well, wake up.  Looks weird.”  “Yes, drill sergeant.”

Sometimes, waiting looks pretty weird when you have to be ready to move at a moment’s notice and you can’t lay down on the job, when you are training for action behind the scenes, and the dedication it takes to wait is as draining as the training itself.  Catching a quick rejuvenating nap with your boots on takes skill and focus.  Like waiting for transition as a writer, it can take years.  You must be diligent; you cannot lose focus.  Normally, people don’t wait more than a decade to be able to do what they have been doing all along.  Artists, however, wait for as long as it takes.  It’s hard to forget the dream when it makes up the very fiber of your being.  So, you hurry up and meet those deadlines, finish that play, get to that conference, sit in on that workshop, study that master playwright; you hurry so you won’t be lacking and you wait…  You wait on alert status because it’s nearly impossible to put a dream on hold when you can’t go very long without doing that thing you do.

When I wake up in the morning, after my ‘good morning, Lord’, I think about writing.  On my way into work, in the middle of Los Angeles traffic, I think about writing.  I’ve got a cart I drag into the office full of my research, snippets of plays, and books I may need ‘just in case’ — just in case I should get a moment to write during the day, just in case I get that next line for that piece that’s sort of on the back burner but can’t seem to wait it’s turn; all to do with writing, all to do with who I am as an artist.  I am constantly being asked, “What’s in the bag?  What’s in the cart?  Are you a student?”  I’m a writer; I write plays and I don’t give them timeouts for bad behavior, they don’t get vacation, and I don’t have daycare.  Every day is “Go to work with Mommy Day.”

Does it matter to you how many perplexed looks cross the faces of people who ask what it is you do when they find out you haven’t had a production in a while but have just started a new play, again?  Do you become self conscious, or simply, stand at ease?  Because, that is what playwrights do, we write plays, in season and out of season, we write creating worlds peopled with all our good intentions.  There is no rule that says, if we don’t get a production every year we must stop and do something else.  My thought is that one must be ready, be on alert because one day your gift will make room for you and bring you before great men (male/female) and you would want to have a lot to offer.  So, while you are waiting…write….  Build your repertoire…be about the work…  Hone your craft…stay on alert status, the alarm will sound and you will need to have your boots on and laced all the way up…

Eminence Front – The Who

I chose to preview the blog with this song by the Who, because I think Pete Townshend is an artist who’s embraces these … Work – Play – Authenticity

It’s work. We’ve all heard at one point someone refer to work as “another four letter word”.  Good.

Surprise. Work is good. Work is good for the soul. It’s the vehicle of expression of our essence. I think there’s a general negative attitude about the word in itself – “Work”.  I imagine the chain gang in “Cool Hand Luke”.  And do you remember Jack Nicholson as Jack Torrance in “The Shining”?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1O0ZfZGF8l8

The scene:  Wendy discovers what Jack had been toiling over  –  pages and pages inscribed with a single phrase written into paragraphs and dialogue of “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” This is the product of 4 to 5 months of work.  He comes upon her discovery, and she is the one freaked for being found out. Brilliant irony. He moves towards her with that Nicholsonesque menace (the eyes, the grin, the rage) and she backs away sobbing and weakly wielding a bat between them.  He tears into her with his guilt, “Have you ever thought about a single solitary moment about my responsibilities to my employers… Does it matter to you at all the owner have placed their complete confidence and trust in me?… do you have slightest idea of what the moral and ethical principle is, do you? Has it ever occurred to you what would happen to my future if I failed to live up to my responsibility?”

Whoa Jack. You’re taking all this too seriously. You’re identifying yourself a little too deeply with the man.

Fast backward to yesterday. Twilight. I am sitting at an outdoor cafe finishing the last few chapters of a book. I am enjoying the weather, the quiet idle of the day and watching people between the lines. A man in a t-shirt emblazoned, “Eat, Sleep, Play”. I didn’t pay much attention to it till this morning after I spoke with a fellow writer. I called to check up on him, because he missed class yesterday which was unusual. I wanted to find out if he was okay. And he wasn’t and I heard why. He was agonizing about not writing for two weeks.  He’s feeling the pressure of not having finished the memoir, and is disappointed that he doesn’t have a product when we are so close to the end of our workshop. I felt his anxiety, but I wasn’t prepared to indulge in a conversation that seemed inane of self-mutiliation. That wasn’t going to help this person get past the self pity and moving on with the work at hand.

I told him it’s okay to hit some bumps, but work through it. Stop beating yourself up over the past. Writing is visceral and cathartic and writers have to be good to themselves and realize when they need to stop channeling for a little while, or at least be aware when they’re not well (spiritually, physically and mentally) for the job at hand.  Do what’s necessary to be well again. Plus everything he’s doing outside of writing will also feed his writing.  Relax.

If we can change our belief that the work is play then maybe there wouldn’t be so much agonizing over the result and looking for a product. Play is not about product. Play is about being in presence of the moment. Is what I’m doing fun, inventive, new, authentic? Play is many things and right now the strongest association I have with play is authenticity. I ask myself for what purpose am I creating this. If it’s anything near close to the truth – the essence of me – it’s fun and it becomes play. But ‘working for man’ is not my essence. I do work for the man 5 days a week, and thank goodness I work at a place where the people are real. They have a passion for what they are doing and it shows in how they work and the byproduct of the process. I dream for the moment to see my play come alive on stage, but overall I am joyful and thankful when I’m writing, because my spirit demands it.

I leave you with thoughtful words from Roy Orbison’s song who’s gotta a plan to stop working for the man.

Hey, now, you better listen to me everyone of you
We got a lotta, lotta, lotta, lotta work to do
Forget about your women and that water can
Today were working for the man

Well, pick up your feet, we’ve got a deadline to meet
I’m gonna see you make it on time
Oh, don’t relax, I want elbows and backs
I wanna see everybody from behind

Cause your working for the man, a’working for the man
You gotta make him a hand when you’re working for the man

Oh, well, I’m picking em up and I’m laying em down
I believe he’s gonna work me into the ground
I pull to the left, I heave to the right
I oughta kill him but it wouldn’t be right

Cause Im working for the man, working for the man
Gotta make him a hand, a’working for the man

Well, the boss man’s daughter sneaks me water
Everytime her daddy’s down the line
She says, meet me tonight, love a’me right
And everything is gonna be fine
So I slave all day without much pay
Cause I’m just abiding my time
Cause the company and the daughter you see
Their both gonna be all mine

Yeah, I’m gonna be the man, I’m gonna be the man
Gotta make him a hand if I’m gonna be the man

Working for the man, a’working for the man
Gotta make him a hand a’working for the man