A Man of Constant Sorrow

I’m a man of constant sorrow tripping over guilt and stress I wear my guilt as a badge of honor, lord, I’m a total mess Even the day I was born, I was mother’s little miracle of mirth My guilt runs back through hundreds of years, another time and tuff It goes back into an ancient land to another impoverished time Surly, I can blame my great, great Grand father and that Irish blood-line I live in a world of misery, i’m troubled with lonely cries Wondering, around in a world of privilege, I can hardly recognize My father never won a title just a share-cropper on a farm, The most he ever gave me to boast was a strong back and arm I can say one thing in my defense, and that’s without a doubt This world of privilege I’m living in, is wearing my old body out