We follow each other around on shaky ground
The nature of his work
Twenty hours a day, little time he had for others
We follow each other around on shaky ground
There is no right or wrong
An expired product off the shelf, working for someone else
And worked himself to death, working for someone else
His life had become to him
We follow each other around on shaky ground
Gave him a minstrel color
Can only wonder and stare
Worthless in many ways
Never got to see the world
Now it's down to the wire
Facing six feet under
He got a funeral and this miner's song
