My father worked the plant as
his father befor.
We worked until are hands bleed and
are backs were sore.
History we made and many fine men spent there lives
in this very place.
Founded the union.
we are the backbone not a copperate
Didnt bat a eye just said goodbye
catching the first outta town bus.
They saved there over payed asses
but what about us.
The working class people who gave there
sweat and tears.
A town inwhich the factory was built.
Old and young share bitter reflections over
stories passed down through the years.
More than jobs left with the closing
of the factorys doors.
Pain echos from broken souls.
it comes into are very essense seeps into the floors.
Years of memories gone without a
They crunch numbers but were people.
You saved a billion but a whole town
ask's what about us?