The Factory

The factory, the factory it never stops
night and day it works
and what is the name of the man next to me
or of that crazy Italian?
I can't ask them
nor can I breathe.

I work at the machine
Two to ten shift
and right from the start
they sent the foreman
to whisper a couple of curt words
in my ear.

"Listen, my immigrant friend
time is money
don't talk to workers
and save your time
don't forget your son
he's hungry and it's a shame."

So bent at my post
I forget my language
I am number eight
that's how everyone knows me
And I keep my name
a secret.

Music: Yannis Markopoulos
Lyrics: Giorgos Skourtis
Vocals: Lakis Halkias
From the album Immigrants, 1974