Working
Always working
'Til your fingers have been worn to bone
And you could sleep where you stand
Working dawn to dusk
Trudging to an early grave
And then you feel shame
Shame that you can't give us
Nice things
Don't you understand
I don't care
I'm grateful
That I
Can
Eat
And
Play
And
Live
Yet you feel the need
To give us more
And I love you for
That
You stubborn
Fools
I love you
And I have
Enough.