I’ve worked these hands straight to the bone. We dig down, deep past our hearts and into the fucking ground. Kill ourselves all day, then go back to a broken home. No though of future or sight of an end when a fucking shovel becomes your best friend. After a day in a ditch, you’ll pray tomorrow never comes. The pain and strain, the sweat and blood. We age away in the sun. Everyone is fucking fading away. We age away in the sun. Dead end fucking nights. Dead end fucking life. And see, there’s no love for the working man, when the bones in our backs is all we have. It’s all I have. Pain and strain, sweat and blood
