FMC Corporation (NYSE: FMC) is a chemical manufacturing company headquartered in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. FMC employs over 4,800 people world wide, and had gross revenues of US$3.115 billion in 2008.
Founded in 1883 as the Bean Spray Pump Company in Los Gatos, California by John Bean. The company's first product was a piston pump. Bean invented the pump to spray insecticide on the many fruit orchards in the area. A Bean sprayer is on display at the Forbes Mill museum there. Bean Avenue in downtown Los Gatos is named after John Bean.
In 1928, Bean Spray Pump purchased Anderson-Barngrover Co. and Sprague-Sells, and changed its name to Food Machinery Corporation, and began using the initials FMC. FMC received a contract to design and build landing vehicles tracked for the United States War Department in 1941. FMC also built the M113 (APC) Armored Personnel Carrier and the Bradley Fighting Vehicle as well as the XR311 at its former facility in Santa Clara, California. The troubled development of the Bradley was satirized in the 1998 HBO movie The Pentagon Wars. In the movie FMC was fictionalized as A.O.C corporation. Bean also manufactured fire fighting equipment in the 1960s through the 1980s under the FMC and the Bean names.
I picked it up. I held it. I threw it away. I strayed.
By far one of the dumbest things I've done to myself.
No embracement of the truth, it's gone.
Progress unwound. Ideals shut down.
Pin it on me. Take me away.
I'm guilty as charged. You can call out.
This is my forceful vice struggling to gain some life.
Sometimes when you live with something for so long you can't break it,
can't put it down, can't walk away.
Beauty in my mind defined by images shot into my mind.
Brain scan. Observe the man I am.
Look at my hands. I'm trembling at the mistakes I live.
One day I'm awake. The next day I'm dead.
This is not real. This I know.
But it calls on me. How does this work?
It's so fucking twisted. It takes me away.
It sweeps me off my feet. I know how this goes.
I've dealt with this before. Day one, liquefy my life.
Take my insides out. Hang them on a wall.
The beauty. Self-security works itself into a hole.
But I can feel the cold from here.
And I know it's cold.
Blisters ravaged my life.
The life that I claimed back.
Fumaça, sou inocente na parada
Fumaça, tomei um pau sem fazer nada
Tomei um pau, tô quebradão
Me pegaram com a tal erva na mão
Mas eu pensei que fosse fumo sabiá
Que o meu pai me deu dinheiro pra comprar
E o seu Zé do bar
Ao invés de fumo sabiá
Ele me deu erva de doido pra levar
E eu, tão inocente, não sabia
Um pacotinho ele embrulhou sem me mostrar
E o seu Zé do bar
Fez isso só pra me sacanear
Eu sei que ele queria se vingar
Só porque tracei a sua filha
Ele ligou para a policia me esperar
Entrei no bar, totalmente inocente
Pedindo fumo sabiá, mas seu Zé me deu semente
E na volta pra casa, o que que eu vejo?
Os "homi" já me dando baculejo
O que que é isso ai na sua mão?
Vai se explicar pro delegado, meu irmão!
Seu delegado, sou inocente
Fui enganado, sem saber comprei semente
Seu vagabundo, não mente não
Cê vai pro quarto pra tomar uma sessão
Cheguei em casa, arrebentado
A vizinhaça me chamou de emaconhado
E a galera sacaneava,
Cantava isso toda vez que eu passava