Summertime

The sun’s already tucked away beneath the horizon’s shadow

Too tired to wait up for the last of the weary workers

ears still ringing from the screaming machines

eyes and feet swollen sore from the weight of the day

And the days before that and before that

And the presumption of one coming after

Oh summertime livin'

The paying is cheap

You got holes in your pockets

And sores on your feet

If you’re lucky they’ll pay ya

Enough that you’ll eat

It’s a prime time gig

Shovelin shit for the elite

Stumbling up a set of weathered steps

To eat a dinner of thrice cooked potatoes

Alone in the low glow of a single shaded lamp

Barely awake enough to partake of the daily bread

And to think just for a minute of some distant face

Before collapsing into a heavy sleep.

Oh summertime livin'

The paying is cheap

You got holes in your pockets

And sores on your feet

If you’re lucky they’ll pay ya

Enough that you’ll eat

It’s a prime time gig

Shovelin' shit for the elite

Summertime livin'

I can't stand the heat.

God I can't stand the heat...