Works so hard in the city, girl.
I am a factory drone.
The stifling air is gritty, girl.
I sweat both blood and bone.
Profit is the central theme,
a signpost for the greedy.
And a change of luck
is the desperate dream,
of all the poor and needy.
Works so hard in the city, girl.
I works most days and nights.
My life there’s never pretty girl,
cause no-one treats you right.
The streets are marred in the city, girl.
There is no pleasing side.
The walls are scarred with grafitti, girl.
No beauty and no pride.
Work is all in the city, girl.
My time is not my own.
No-one cares or pities, girl.
I’m trapped and so alone.
Break my back in the city, girl.
For we must have a start.
In fact this jobs’ so shitty girl,
it wracks my aching heart.
So I’ll do my time in the city, girl
For I must pay my way.
It’s a shabby deal, a dirty crime, girl,
that you’re so far away.
You still live in a gentle world,
out on a distant plain,
while I’ll exist upon my will,
on nerves and mental strain.
Works so hard in the city, girl.
I works most nights and days.
The people here are petty, girl.
They have peculiar ways.
An open speech and honest deed,
invites the rank suspicion,
as both a sly and foreign breed,
and causes much derision.
And when I leave the city, girl.
How happy shall I be?
With something in the kitty, girl.
I’ll flee this misery.
And when I’m far from the city, girl,
what lesson will I learn?
To long remain with my pretty girl,
and vow never to return!
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