Killing Floor Lyrics

Joe spoke no English but he had a dream

And he saved up most of his pay

To bring his wife and six kids from Lebanon

And settle down here to stay



You could feel the prison of his loneliness

'Cause he wouldn't see them for years

He kept brandy behind the compressed air tanks

And he gulped it when the coast was clear



Nick the Greek collected tropical fish

But he had to be a character too

So he smuggled in piranha just to break the law

And he fed 'em on kangaroo



Bob's pride was his handlebar moustache

And he said he still combed out sand

He pushed a tank through the Western Desert

So they made him the leading hand



And the summer night shifts were long and cool

And Charlie chain-smoked cigars

Young David sweated in his speckled paint mask

As he gazed out at the stars...



Crazy Charlie was a Yugoslav

His old straight-eight Chevvy could move

His ambition was live on a hippy commune

When Dave told him about free love...



Fred had been a farmer and a heavyweight champ

He had hands like a stump-jump plough

He'd moved the earth with a thrust of his arm

He was loading on the paintline now



And the boys made a noise every Friday night

At the bar of the Hilton Hotel

Downing pints and chewing the fat

'Til the ten o'clock closing bell...



It was only rumour 'til the foreman came

And hiding his shame with a cough

He said 'They're cutting back down to one shift now..

they're going to have to lay you off..."





Joe held his gaze and gulped a brandy

And spat it out at his feet

Bob stood bolt-still looking thunderstruck

Nick swore for an hour in Greek...



But their anger was spent in a rush of fire

And then smouldered out of mind

When they shook hands on that last grey day

Each was in his way resigned



And a few days later I saw old Joe

And he looked like he'd aged ten years

Drunk on the tiles of the Stag Hotel

And he couldn't hold back the tears



Fred'd talked of his gruelling heavyweight bouts

I remembered what he'd said

"There's no giving up on that killing floor

If you don't fight you're dead..."



If you work with your hands for you livelihood

Some day you might have to choose

When the class war rages on the factory floor

If you don't fight you lose...

If you don't fight you lose....