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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I spent too long away from her driving that rig, So I gave up the freight line and learned how to dig, ‘cause I knew I could get steady work at the mine. I was sure that our love was the permanent kind. When I think of it now, Lord, the memory stings; In a year she moved out taking all of her things. Though I’d tried to provide her the best that I could, Seems a working class life couldn’t hold her for good. In the eyes of a miner the heavens are black; An anthracite ceiling, a panic attack. And it seems so ironic, the way that she laughed; She took the Impala, while I got the shaft. Now I could’ve caved in when she cast me aside, But there’s not enough mountain to bury my pride. Though I might’ve descended a vertical mile, I’ll find somebody new who can teach me to smile. In the eyes of a miner the sky’s made of stone; A heaven beneath which no flowers are grown. My glimpse of horizon hangs heavy and damp; A curtain of rock in the glow of my lamp. But there’s strength and there’s courage found way down below. The vein’s getting richer the deeper I go. I nod to the foreman while forcing a grin; The only way out is the way I came in. With the eyes of a miner a blind man could see A glimmer of hope there among the debris. My diamond-bit drill echoes midnight at noon. It’s a gravel-voiced ditty, a hardscrabble tune.
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