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The ole man stand by the lone chute, he sold his calves t'day. |
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He spits in the dust between his boots, as the semi pulls away. |
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The slick blue check in his grimy hands, shoves down in his coat. |
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It won't make the payment on the land, or pay the interst on the note. |
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Oh...it's hard, hard times... |
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He's a young man with a loving wife, 2 children and a home. |
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Plans to build a better life, and put a mortagage on his own. |
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He lost his job when the boom went bust, still got bills to pay. |
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Now he's pickin' up cans in the roadside dust, she's at the |
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Feed-Rack cafe. |
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Oh....it's hard, hard times... |
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Now the ole grey banker sits behind his desk, beneath a worried frown. |
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Shuffles throught the tangled mess of some good folks goin' down. |
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He's known some of 'em for 30 years, and some point the finger of blame. |
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An' no one sees the banker's tears, except the one who shares his name. |
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Oh...it's hard, hard times... |
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Oh...it's hard, hard times... |
