| I can hear the rumblin' river as it rushes underground
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| I can hear the breakers crashing; |
| I can hear the breakers pound
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| I can stand beneath the waterfall and shout with all my might
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| I can hear a thousand voices making ready for a fight
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| I can ride through Colorado in a semi-trailer cab
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| I can hang around the truck stops and hear them joke and gab
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| I can hear them tellin' stories of the lives that they must lead
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| As they wonder how they’ll make it with so many mouths to feed
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| I can see the little hobo as he shuffles down the street
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| I can hear him in the diner as he bums a bite to eat
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| For ten years he stoked the furnace ‘til the factory whistle blowed
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| Got laid off by automation boys and it put him on the road
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| And I met another fellow as I wandered all about
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| He was mining down at Heyser till his union sold him out
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| Yes, they worked him in the coalmines till his back and arms were sore
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| Then they put him on the blacklist boys and he can’t go back no more
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| I can see the sharecrop farmer as he wipes his sweaty brow
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| He can see the crop is failing but it ain’t his anyhow
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| I can see the dust cloud swirling on his played-outfarmin' land
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| See him hunker down and let it trickle through his hand
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| I met a fine young negro lad about seventeen or so 29
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| He didn’t like those southern jails but he felt that he had to go
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| Saying, «Mom and dad were Negros and my son will be one too
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| And I guess it’s up to me because we’ve given up on you»
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| And as I passed an air force base a young man I did meet
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| With his shiny wings of silver and his uniform so neat
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| Saying, «I don’t wanna bomb them sir; |
| it fills me with dismay
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| But orders they are orders and you know I must obey»
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| Well I’ve been walking through this country and my eyes are open wide
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| And the things I’ve seen and heard you couldn’t imagine if you tried
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| I’ve been listening to some people and one thing I understand
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| A great flood is a-rising fast and there’s a rumblin' in the land |