Smokey Factory Blues Albert Hammond

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Early in the misty, misty morning
Heading for another freeway jam
Sleepy eyed and shivering
Waking up and wishing
It was Sunday. I wish it was Sunday

On the radio they're playing love songs
Songs that make me want to turn around
Factory gates are up ahead
I wish that I was home in bed
With you, my love, back home with you, my love

But I work to make a living
And I work without a break
And I work when I am sleeping
And I work when I'm awake
Yes, and I'd like to leave the city
But I can't afford the move
And I think I'm goin' under
With those way down low down smokey factory blues

I was born a lover, not a worker
Money doesn't smell like sweet perfume
Some of us feel out of place
With engine oil upon our face
Believe me, you'd better believe me