Silas Crowe - Blues of The Working Man

I wake up mean, choke down the grime, Hands still black from yesterday’s time. Steel-toed boots and a busted back, The world don’t stop, it just keeps on keeping on. These are the blues of the working man, Sweat-stained soul, old lunchbox band. Break my back ‘cause I still can, Playin’ the blues of the working man. Lunch break, smoke break, rain in my drink, Can’t hear my thoughts, machines too loud to think. Sweat in my eyes, burn in my throat, I work to live, but the check won’t float. These are the blues of the working man, Sweat-stained soul, old lunchbox band. Break my back ‘cause I still can, Playin’ the blues of the working man. Got rust on my prayers, holes in my soul, Dreams got repossessed, nothin’ left to lose. Still I hum that tune when the day gets long, Ain’t heaven’s hymn, but it’s my goddamn song. Boss man talks, I bite my tongue, Too old to fight, too broke to run. But the night gets kind when the road gets wide, I got my harmonica and peace inside. These are the blues of the working man, Sweat-stained soul, old lunchbox band. Break my back ‘cause I still can, Playin’ the blues of the working man. Still I whistle that same old song, Been tired for years, but I keep strong. Payin’ my dues and playin’ the blues… Of the working man.