Early in the misty, misty morning
Headin' for another freeway jam
Sleepy eyed and shivering
Waking up and wishing it was Sunday
I wish it was Sunday.
On the radio they're playin' love songs.
Songs that make me want to turn around
Fact'ry gates up ahead
I wish that I was home in bed with you, my love,
Back home with you, my love.
But I work to make a living
And I work without a break
And I work when I am sleeping
And I work when I'm awake
Yes, and I'd like to leave the city
But I can't afford the move
And I think I'm goin' under
With those way down low down
Smokey fact'ry blues.
I was born a lover not a worker.
Money doesn't smell like sweet perfume
Some of us seem out of place
With engine oil upon our face.
Believe me, you better believe me.
Headin' for another freeway jam
Sleepy eyed and shivering
Waking up and wishing it was Sunday
I wish it was Sunday.
On the radio they're playin' love songs.
Songs that make me want to turn around
Fact'ry gates up ahead
I wish that I was home in bed with you, my love,
Back home with you, my love.
But I work to make a living
And I work without a break
And I work when I am sleeping
And I work when I'm awake
Yes, and I'd like to leave the city
But I can't afford the move
And I think I'm goin' under
With those way down low down
Smokey fact'ry blues.
I was born a lover not a worker.
Money doesn't smell like sweet perfume
Some of us seem out of place
With engine oil upon our face.
Believe me, you better believe me.