Through the mansions of fear,
through the mansions of pain,
I see my daddy walking through
them factory gates in the rain,
Factory takes his hearing,
factory gives him life,
The working, the working,
just the working life.
End of the day, factory whistle
cries,
Men walk through these gates
with death in their eyes.
And you just better believe,
boy,
somebody's gonna get hurt
tonight,
It's the working, the working,
just the working life.
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |