| Look at the hand that made the steel
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| That raised the kids, that shouldered the wheel
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| And taught a man how not to feel | |
| At six o’clock in the morning
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| Rising from their narrow bed
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| The poorly clothed and the barely fed
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| Know someone filled their dreams with lead
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| At six o’clock in the morning
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| Folks with their back to the wind
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| And their face to the wall
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| Know how to keep themselves warm
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| If they make themselves small
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| Powdered eggs and pinto beans
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| And welfare loaves of American cheese
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| Won’t lift the hungry from their knees
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| At six o’clock in the morning
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| Adam stood over Eden fair
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| While Eve slept he touched her soft hair
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| Waiting to catch the first train out of there
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| At six o’clock in the morning
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| Man knows toil and woman knows pain
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| As it’s always been it will always remain
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| We pull back the blanket and cover the stain
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| At six o’clock in the morning
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| Some men have a god
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| That keeps them from harm
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| Some men have a bottle
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| At the end of their arm
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| I have a child that calls me Dad
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| I long to give her what I never had
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| Like waking up and feeling glad
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| It’s six o’clock in the morning |