Factory Girls
Build a bridge, or maybe two
Together held with footsteps she outgrew
But now she sits alone
Everyone's long gone
She dances in a photograph
When it was good to joke and have a laugh
But that was yesterday
If only today
Now these walls are crawling faces that still breathe
But before she nods her head, what's left but sleep?
She hears a chorus of factory girls
Singing in the streets
Drinking their Coca-Colas
After washing your filthy sheets
Chasing down the avenue
After a childhood that she never knew
Choking on woodbine
Cigarette's just killing time (yeah)
Now these walls are crawling faces that still breathe
But before she nods her head, what's left but sleep?
She hears a chorus of factory girls
Singing aoin and all
Empty are their pockets
But their voices are filled with song
Come day, go day
Wish in my heart it was Sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a Sunday
Come day, go day
Wish in my heart it was Sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a Sunday
Now these walls are crawling faces that still breathe
But before she nods her head, what's left but sleep?
She hears a chorus of factory girls
Singing in the streets
Drinking their Coca-Colas
After washing your filthy sheets
She hears a chorus of factory girls
Singing aoin and all
Empty are their pockets
But their voices are filled with song
Slayed Richard and his court of kings
He stole my heart and many other things
But me, I took his crown
Wish he was here to steal it now
Miss Bridget Regan on vocals
Together held with footsteps she outgrew
But now she sits alone
Everyone's long gone
She dances in a photograph
When it was good to joke and have a laugh
But that was yesterday
If only today
Now these walls are crawling faces that still breathe
But before she nods her head, what's left but sleep?
She hears a chorus of factory girls
Singing in the streets
Drinking their Coca-Colas
After washing your filthy sheets
Chasing down the avenue
After a childhood that she never knew
Choking on woodbine
Cigarette's just killing time (yeah)
Now these walls are crawling faces that still breathe
But before she nods her head, what's left but sleep?
She hears a chorus of factory girls
Singing aoin and all
Empty are their pockets
But their voices are filled with song
Come day, go day
Wish in my heart it was Sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a Sunday
Come day, go day
Wish in my heart it was Sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a Sunday
Now these walls are crawling faces that still breathe
But before she nods her head, what's left but sleep?
She hears a chorus of factory girls
Singing in the streets
Drinking their Coca-Colas
After washing your filthy sheets
She hears a chorus of factory girls
Singing aoin and all
Empty are their pockets
But their voices are filled with song
Slayed Richard and his court of kings
He stole my heart and many other things
But me, I took his crown
Wish he was here to steal it now
Miss Bridget Regan on vocals
Credits
Writer(s): Robert Schmidt, George Schwindt, Matthew Hensley, Bridget Regan, Dennis Casey, Nathen Maxwell, David King
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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