Concrete arms, skin like stone, Walks the streets, but he walks alone. Ugly frame and a busted smile, Keeps the wolves back for a little while. Ten feet tall, for the ones who crawl, Fists like hammers, heart for us all. Not fed gold, not fed lies, He’s the reason our city survives. Gas-stained hands from a pump downtown, Knows our names, knows this town. They point and sneer, but we all cheer, ’Cause the giant’s ours, he ain’t theirs to steer. Ten feet tall, for the ones who crawl, Fists like hammers, heart for us all. Not fed gold, not fed lies, He’s the reason our city survives. When the towers fall and the sirens scream, He’s the one who stands between. Not in books, not in halls, But he’ll hold this town till the last brick falls. Ten feet tall, for the ones who crawl, Fists like hammers, heart for us all! Ugly face, working hands, Still the pride of the working lands!
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