The Working Man.

My Back Aches,
My Head Pounds,
My Feet Are Numb,
And My Hands Are Covered In Blisters,
Yet I Still Work,
Even If I Do Feel Like I Want To Drop!

I May Be A Human,
Who Has Some Back Problems,
Sore Feet,
Bad Hands,
And A Troubled Mind And Life,
Yet I Still Work,
Not Till I Drop,
But Till I'm Done With My Cruel Work.

If I Had Stopped,
When My Eyes Teared,
From My Sore Feet,
My Sacred Hands Burned,
Or When My Back Ached With Agony,
I Would Lose The Thing I Need To Live.

People Say You Need Your Heart,
Or You Lungs,
Or Your Eyes,
But, What You Really Need Is Money.
I Should Know More Then Anyone,
I'm A Working Man after all.
And I Know If I Stop,
Or Take A Vacation,
I Earn Less,
And I Can't Feed My Sweets Girls,
Or My Brave Son.
I'm A Working Man For Them.
Even If It Does Kill Me.