I've worked these hands straight to the bone. We dig down, deep past our hearts and into the f****** ground. Kill ourselves all day, then go back to a broken home. No though of future or sight of an end when a f****** shovel becomes your best friend. After a day in a ditch, you'll pray tomorrow never comes. The pain and strain, the sweat and blood. We age away in the sun. Everyone is f****** fading away. We age away in the sun. Dead end f****** nights. Dead end f****** life. And see, there's no love for the working man, when the bones in our backs is all we have. It's all I have. Pain and strain, sweat and blood.