| Working on the Georgia Line the live long day
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| Ninety nine degrees and only half past May
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| Nailing down the metal with the cross-time blues
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| I had creosote all over my shoes
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| I hated it, you know, now I find I miss it
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| Every time my little pension check rolls in
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| Course I had it bad… hey, not as bad as this is
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| It sure was better back then
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| Yeah, it sure was better back then
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| Working in the rain beneath surplus tarp
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| Foreman in the wagon twanging a sad Jews harp
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| Passing out at night still in my mud caked jeans
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| I was living off of berries and beans
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| I hated it, you know, now I swear I miss it
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| Every time I look down on my pale white skin
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| Course I had it bad… hey not as bad as this is
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| It sure was better back then
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| It sure was better back then
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| Well, the cable caught my leg, and, boy, the damn thing bled
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| Foreman sewed the muscle up with tarp patch thread
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| Sit me by the camp, gonna have the cook clean pans
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| And scrub them down with Georgia red sand…
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| I hated it, you know, now I really I miss it
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| Staring in my TV till the broadcast ends
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| Course I had it bad… hey not as bad as this is
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| It sure was better back then
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| It sure was better back then
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| It sure was better back then
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| And it sure… was better back then |