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in memory of a miner who dragged himself to work and worked himself to deathworking for someone else we follow each other around on shaky ground his life had become to him worthless in many ways an expired product off the shelf working for someone else we follow each other around on shaky ground the nature of his work gave him a minstrel color twenty hours a day little time he had for others we follow each other around on shaky ground never got to see the world he got a funeral and this miner's song there is no right or wrong now it's down to the wire facing six feet under can only wonder and stare his name was a number |