But don't expect me to feel sorry for you
"I didn't have a chance I grew up in poverty!"
Really I was the son of a drunk who never worked
As a child I sold garden and flower seeds door to door
My father found my coin jar and stole from it for booze
At six I mowed lawns and offered odd jobs
But you are white I am black
I lived in poverty area mostly minorities
I picked wild blackberries in coffee cans
Twenty five cents a can, on Saturday I walked to the fields
Picked strawberries and beans two dollars a day
It rained and only two of us showed up to pick
I took home school lunches of richer kids for Sis
That would be her meal for the day and week
Mom again was robbed by Dad all he left was house payment
Yes, i had a roof over my head, no heat on some days
When we had oil I started the floor furnace
It scared me to death when the oil exploded
Nine I had a shared paper route I worked handing out papers
I went business to business offering to work
The best job I had was cleaning and mowing the yard
For a local rich Real Estate office for a dollar
At the end of the week he handed me a dollar, "wow who!
Did I say it was a dollar a day get I just gave you a lesson"
I worked the next day for free messing up his business
Married I worked three jobs at once
Unloading buses at Greyhound, trucks at Lasme Freight
four hours at Container corporation and took college classes
So do I feel sorry for you. Get off your butt give up the drugs
and find a job. After retirement, the company closed down
At sixty I Nannie my Grand kids all are college bound