| Tear this poorhouse down
|
| When you know how to build it back
|
| Hammer a nail between your heart and your hometown
|
| 'til you can carry this country on your back
|
| Mama glued the Keds signs
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| on the back of my little white shoes
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| Daddy never crossed the picket line
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| it was hard but we made it through
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| only had one little pair of stonewashed jeans
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| with a label on the back
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| I’m a product of the never-give-up
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| American middle class
|
| Tear this poorhouse down
|
| When you know how to build it back
|
| Hammer a nail between your heart and your hometown
|
| 'til you can carry this country on your back
|
| I got my education at a school they could afford
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| Scholarships went to the rich
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| and the grants went to the poor
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| so I stood behind the little downtown bar
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| for spending money, books, and gas
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| To be a certified member of the work-too-much
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| American middle class
|
| Now daddy can’t get his pension or Social Security
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| Worked thirty damn years in a coal mine
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| Feeding welfare families
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| Struggle hard and hide it well,
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| You sure ain’t rich and you sure as hell
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| Ain’t poor enough to get one little break
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| 'cause everything would collapse
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| Without the hardworking, God-loving members of
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| the American middle class
|
| Tear this poorhouse down
|
| When you know how to build it back
|
| Hammer a nail between your heart and your hometown
|
| 'til you can carry this country on your back |