Factory

8/9/78 Angora Club Cleveland, OH

I grew up in a small town, I remember I used to see my old man twice a day, I used to
see him once at night when I came in and he'd be sitting in the kitchen in the dark,
smoking a cigarette, with a six pack of beer. Then in the morning, my bedroom was
out over the backyard, and I always got to see him at six o'clock, popped under the
hood of one of those 100 dollars junk cars he used to buy, leaned on the cold ground
trying to get it started to go to work. He worked in a factory.  I wrote this song for
him.