| In a room all alone waiting by the telephone
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| With a tear in his eye and a pen in his hand
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| So begins the diary of a working man
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| He’d been a poor man all his life
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| And just when things were going right
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| Some stranger takes his woman away
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| He doesn’t know if he’ll see, oh, another day, oh, another day
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| Time has come and he was right
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| It was a cold and rainy night
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| And he thought for sure she would follow
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| But it won’t be the same, no tomorrow
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| Now here’s a man glory bound
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| In a pool of dreams about to drown
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| If he can just get through this night
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| Then maybe tomorrow things will work out right, oh, will work out right
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| Well, with the pain in his blood
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| He’d love to take her if he could
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| And as he wakes with a scream
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| To only realize it’s just reality, oh
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| He woke with sweaty hands
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| Maybe there’ll be a change in plans
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| With a tear in his eye and a gun in his hand
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| So ends the diary of a workingman |