| I know that I was given everything I could take
|
| From the moment I was living I was dying to make
|
| Nothing out of something or real out of fake
|
| It’s hard days living in the world
|
| Said the man on the corner with a sign in his hands
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| And the other in his pocket, a feverish grin
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| «Could you spare me a dollar, or whatever you can?»
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| It’s hard days living in the world
|
| Oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh, oh
|
| The mother in the market with her kids in line
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| Getting poorer every second trying hard to survive
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| The water isn’t running, the bills pile high
|
| It’s hard days living in the world
|
| The paper trends of terror and an oil hike
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| The communistic pleasures of a union strike
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| The president shelters in his bed at night
|
| It’s hard days living in the world
|
| Oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh, oh
|
| The soldier in the desert with a shot in the heart
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| As his mother gets a letter saying he fought hard
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| Well it doesn’t help the matter if he’s honored or not
|
| It’s hard days living in the world
|
| The choir sings a hymn, oh, in staccato spurts
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| The family in the front row looking to her
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| And everyone’s an angel for what it’s worth
|
| It’s hard days living in the world
|
| Oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh, oh
|
| I know that I was given everything I could take
|
| From the moment I was living I was dying to make
|
| Nothing out of something or real out of fake
|
| It’s hard days living in the world
|
| Yeah it’s hard days living in the world
|
| Yeah it’s hard days living in the world |