Porch Picker's Lament

3/4 G

We waited for bad news, 

cold there like statues. 

C

We prayed for so long on our knees.

D

How can I live?

How can I raise my kids, 

C

if they're closing down our factory? 

We closed up the gates for the last time. 

We talked of the times that we spent. 

We sat on the tailgates of our pickups.

We sang the porch picker's lament.

Am

First you roam, you roam,

D

then you find yourself a home.

Am 

You labor and you groan 

D

until the work is all gone,

Am

then you moan, you moan,

D 

you say you should have known,

Am                                    D                   

then you pack up your things and move on.

I'm kind to my neighbor. 

I trust in my savior. 

I've learned to rely on myself. 

I believe in we the people, 

and we're all created equal, 

or so says the papers on my shelf.

There are things left unspoken.

There are things that are broken. 

There are things that are just badly bent.

Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. 

Sometimes it's easy to stay silent. 

First you roam, you roam,

then you find yourself a home. 

You labor and you groan 

until the work is all gone,

then you moan, you moan, 

you say you should have known, 

then you pack up your things and move on.

There's blue and white collars

both chasing after dollars, 

Slaves to things they think make them free, 

but someday all that gold

will pave the streets I stroll,

at least that's what my Grandma told me.

Until then we'll wander,

then cross over yonder, 

and figure out what it all meant. 

We'll sit on the tailgates of our pickups, 

and sing the porch picker's lament.