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Beat like a rug, ashed out and clubbed

Well it’s all for my betterment

I’ll give you a rib with the marrow dried up

It’s not much but a widow’s gift

But in the right rays of the sun

If you squint hard enough

There can be only one like it

I’d write you a song

For all men to be one

But I’d sing it from a place of pride

I can sing over most and I’d gladly be the host

But most often I just hang my head and cry

There’s a song beneath the earth

It resides within the dirt

Under the nails of a workin’ man

Drug in by the reign, of the crooked ways I think

I wish I was in a mood to die

Well life, it is good, no matter how far you sink

Sometimes sitting still is better than to try

When you’re down in a hole

And your heart’s weighed down like gold

There is a hand that can reach you there