Working Man

Stiff joints, Tired to the bone, For mere coins, I work all alone, Rough hewn hands, Tarnished by labor, While times slipping sands, ... Erode this old trader, Get a little ahead, Then quickly fall behind, What more can be said, Abound trudging this old grind, I give all I can, They take more away, Until left in my hand, Is less than yesterday, How can this be, How can I survive, When all I can see, Is barely staying alive, There's no promise for me, No hope of retiring, There's no future I see, Except one of perspiring, Where is the hope, When this road is endless, How can I cope, When I am left defenseless, No dreams can I see, No prayers answered today, But I work endlessly, To find a way one day, To find answers, Answers to my prayers, Where hope finally swears, To live up to my cares, And hope blooms, From the hopeless life, Which fills this room, Bringing me such strife, And should this prayer, Be answered by God, I know that I'll swear, To give him all I've got, But I know this is just, A passing dream of mine, And I will do what I must, To keep towing the line, And I know the Lord, Has others with greater needs, So he can not afford, The time to fool with me, An old salty soul, Who is truly lost and sad, But this is my role, And it really isn't all that bad... by My Gull Wheels On a.k.a. Michael Wilson