Song | Three Miles Down |
Artist | Gil Scott-Heron |
Album | Secrets |
作词 : Scott-Heron | |
Here come the mine cars; it'sdamn near dawn. | |
Another shift of men, some of my friends, comin' on. | |
Hard to imagine workin' in the mines; | |
Coal dust in your lungs, on your skin and on your mind. | |
I've listened to the speeches, but it occours to me politicians just don't understand; the thoughts of isolation, ain't no sunshine underground. | |
It's like workin' in a graveyard three miles down. | |
Damn near a legend as old as the mines: things that happen in the pits just don't change with the times. | |
Work 'till you're exhausted in too little spacwe. a history of desastrous fears etched on your face. | |
Somebody signs a paper, ev'ry body thinks it's fine, but | |
Taft and Hartley ain't done one day in the mines. | |
You start to stiffen! | |
You heard a crackin' sound! | |
It's like workin' in a graveyard three miles down. |
zuò cí : ScottHeron | |
Here come the mine cars it' sdamn near dawn. | |
Another shift of men, some of my friends, comin' on. | |
Hard to imagine workin' in the mines | |
Coal dust in your lungs, on your skin and on your mind. | |
I' ve listened to the speeches, but it occours to me politicians just don' t understand the thoughts of isolation, ain' t no sunshine underground. | |
It' s like workin' in a graveyard three miles down. | |
Damn near a legend as old as the mines: things that happen in the pits just don' t change with the times. | |
Work ' till you' re exhausted in too little spacwe. a history of desastrous fears etched on your face. | |
Somebody signs a paper, ev' ry body thinks it' s fine, but | |
Taft and Hartley ain' t done one day in the mines. | |
You start to stiffen! | |
You heard a crackin' sound! | |
It' s like workin' in a graveyard three miles down. |