Lyrics

There's a workhorse warehouse down in the field Boards fallin' off and old rusted steel Stiff smell of pride and blood, blue collar perfume You know they don't make 'em like they used to There's still a stash of smokes behind the line Old dried out paint brushes turpentine Old dusty machinery, grease buckets and stock There's still a stack of cards for punchin' the clock Gone are the days and times gone by Of firm handshakes and a look in the eye An honest days work, cash in hand The glory days are gone for the working class These times are hard, these times we're livin' Underpaid men and exploited women Of hefty pay raises for the few at the top The people in their pockets are politicians and cops There's a workhorse warehouse down in the field Boards fallin' off and old rusted steel There's a stiff smell of pride and blood, blue collar perfume You know they don't make 'em like they used to These times are hard, these times we're livin' Of underpaid men and exploited women Of hefty pay raises for the few at the top The people in their pockets are politicians and cops There's a workhorse warehouse down in the field Boards fallin' off and old rusted steel There's a stiff smell of pride and blood, blue collar perfume You know they don't make 'em like they used to