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Laundry spinnin' in machines. |
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Hammers breaking heavy things. |
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Lunches packed in paper bags. |
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Dirty tables washed with rags. |
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Midnight shifters stocking shelves. |
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Pouring asphalt, hot as hell. |
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That morning paper's at your door |
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before your feet can hit the floor. |
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We all wake up to different situations. |
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With different collars for our occupations. |
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But ever since the world's been in rotation |
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It's been run by humble operations. |
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Daddy was a workin' man |
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kept his family fed with calloused hands. |
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He wasn't too proud to sweat or bleed. |
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And he made damn sure that I could see that |
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We all wake up to different situations. |
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With different collars for our occupations. |
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But ever since the world's been in rotation |
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It's been run by humble operations. |
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Oooh. |
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So put your shovel in the dirt |
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sweat on your shirt |
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Up before the sun, man, |
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just to get it done. |
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Hard workin ladies, feeding little babies |
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Workin for a man with all they can |
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Put in overtime for a nickel and a dime |
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When your back is sore, |
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keep your head held high. |
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You don't give up, you don't give in |
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And you built the world we're living in. |
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And we all wake up to different situations. |
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With different collars for our occupations. |
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But ever since the world's been in rotation |
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It's been run by humble operations. |
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Ooh. Yeah. Ooh. Yeah. |
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So give it up, give it up. |
