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Beat like a rug, ashed out and clubbed Well it’s all for my betterment I’ll give you a rib with the marrow dried up It’s not much but a widow’s gift But in the right rays of the sun If you squint hard enough There can be only one like it I’d write you a song For all men to be one But I’d sing it from a place of pride I can sing over most and I’d gladly be the host But most often I just hang my head and cry There’s a song beneath the earth It resides within the dirt Under the nails of a workin’ man Drug in by the reign, of the crooked ways I think I wish I was in a mood to die Well life, it is good, no matter how far you sink Sometimes sitting still is better than to try When you’re down in a hole And your heart’s weighed down like gold There is a hand that can reach you there