Start my day with a puch to the clock.
In a place with lights that never go off.
Don my respirator, tie my boots.
Place my faith in a protective suit.

Workin' at the factory. Just goin on with the drudgery.
Workin' at the factory. Just might be what's killin' me.

If I'm lucky when I start my shift
I'll be assigned to somethin' where I don't have to lift.
Like standing under a giant drill press
that'd take your arm off if you tried to rest.
Smoke in my eyes and dust in the air.
I'm pickin' that grinder-grit outta my hair.
Where every other person is an amputee
and we're all stuck workin in this factory.

Workin' at the factory. Just goin on with the drudgery.
Workin' at the factory. Just might be what's killin' me.
Slavin' at the factory. Just goin on with the drudgery.
Workin' at the factory. Just might be what's killin' me.

Momma sat me down and she told me, son,
never mess around with a soldering gun.
Wish I woulda listened to her way back then,
My lungs wouldn't be full o' that tin.
Flyin' bail o' pipe knocked my buddy down dead.
He was wearin' safety glasses when it hit him in the head.
Those glasses helped to preserve what he could see
right up to his death in the factory.

*Dufuses babbling*