Richard Thompson

Drifting through the days

Richard Thompson


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