Poverty

Up every morning with the sun

I work all day 'til the evening comes

Busters and corns all in my hands

Lord, have mercy on a working man

I guess I'm gonna die, just like I live in poverty



My pay goes down and my tax goes up

I drink my tea from a broken cup

Between my woman and uncle Sam

I can't figure out just what I am

I guess I'm gonna die, just like I live in poverty



Oh Lord, it's so hard