There's this tiny little place in a big old town
Where chimneys watch over men as they work
Many years ago they were just ten thousand bricks
But soon they rose above us like ghosts from the earth
Some say eight hundred men now walk these roads
Some at night, some come at day
Some don't even sleep they just close their eyes
And some are half dead that's what the folk say
If you're lucky enough when your hands are sore
And you feel you can't give any more
You'll feel sweat kiss your eyes then you'll look up and smile because you've seen the angel of the works
Some people say she ain't real and other men say she's made from their dreams
Listen carefully to the town folk talk they say she's haunted them since twenty thirteen
So many men, they fall down again when they pull themselves up from the floor
As soon as her long blonde hair and her bright blue eyes glide past the workshop door
It could be a hot summers day, there could be bullets of rain, January or even September
But I promise you this when your driving along and you see that blonde hair you'll always remember
She's as rare as an albino blackbird, as beautiful as a velvet black Swan
Whenever I'm feeling down I just keep driving around wondering where has my angel gone.