Little old factory, with a tired-slumped back
wearing weary spectacles of chocolate glass.
You were the first, manufacturer-class
and now your cars\' headlights have cataracts.
But you\'re still standing, with a cane in hand
(That\'s the renovation, going on as planned.)
And your children visit you, and their grandchildren too.
apparently now you\'re a museum, who knew?
So you\'re standing alright, little dust on your roof
put on your nicest flannel, and button it through.
I\'ll take your hand, so wired with veins
(the electricity goes on and off again)
and I\'ll walk with you, as you did for me
And when your memory fails, I\'ll help to teach
(that\'s why we write down history)
(We all have our own Little Old Factories.)