| Hurrying across the bridge before the siren’s call
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| This morning she’s racing her shadow, along the factory wall
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| Then through the gate, where she will wait in line
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| To cross the yard, to clock her card in time
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| And under her scarf, her hair set in curls
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| The day begins for the factory girl
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| For a while the girls try to talk, but their voices soon drowned in the din
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| And their eyes watch their hands do the work, and a new day’s rhythm begins
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| No change today, like yesterday, the same
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| But it’s dinner soon, then afternoon, then home
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| And hurrying home in the fading light
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| The factory girl is going out tonight
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| Her momma says: «Don't be late, you’ve got to get up again before eight»
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| «Oh yes», she sighs, but there’s joy in her eyes
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| As she runs down the path through the gate
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| And out on the rainy streets hoping that her night will last
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| No whispering palms on the beach, for her
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| Just the swish of the cars going past
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| But she believes no one could feel the same
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| Touching and whispering in the rain
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| But the rain takes away her beautiful curls
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| The night is soon gone for the factory girl
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| And hurrying across that bridge before the siren’s call
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| This morning she’s skipping the puddles, all along the factory wall
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| A starling sings, and shakes his wings, she smiles
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| Then at the gate, she hesitates, for a while
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| Then from inside the gates, the sirens roar
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| And across the yard runs the factory girl |