The Flying Pickets
Factory
Early in the morning factory whistle blows
Man  rises from bed and puts on his clothes
Man  takes his lunch, walks out in the morning light
It's the work, the working, just the working life
The working, the working, just the working life

Through  the mansions of fear, through the mansions of pain
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
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 somebody's gonna get hurt tonight
It's the working, the working, just the working life
The work, the work, the working life