Sitting in the evening. Dreaming of the old times. When a job was there for the steady and strong. I see old faces flickering in the firelight. Faces of condemned men who did no wrong. Drifting through the days. Drifting through the days. A man needs work for his own salvation. A man feels reward for his sweat and his pain. But life's satisfaction has passed us over. And many in this town won't see work again. Drifting through the days. Drifting through the days. I've stood at the gates of a hundred factories. Walked off to other towns looking for pay. Now my hope is gone and I'm crushed like the others. The army of forgotten men mouldering away. Drifting through the days. Drifting through the days. Drifting through the days