| My old man, pick me up
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| Every day at half past four
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| I’d hide behind that old school
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| Waiting on his flat Bedford
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| I’d climb up in that cab
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| With someone I didn’t wanna be
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| The true blue collared man
|
| Putting in my time at work
|
| Years written on my hands
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| A blessing and a curse
|
| Everyday looking older
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| Covered up in grease and dirt
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| Whole world upon my shoulders
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| With my name on my shirt
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| Touching clocks, raising kids
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| It’s all there is in all this times
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| Turned eighteen, turned my back
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| Packed my bags and headed out
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| Then I didn’t think I could
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| To make sure I’d never be
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| The true blue collared man
|
| Putting in my time at work
|
| Years written on my hands
|
| A blessing and a curse
|
| Everyday looking older
|
| Covered up in grease and dirt
|
| Whole world upon my shoulders
|
| With my name on my shirt
|
| You get older and you see things differently
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| All that matters now is working for my family
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| I wonder if they’d be proud
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| If they could see me now
|
| The true blue collared man
|
| Putting in my time at work
|
| Years written on my hands
|
| A blessing and a curse
|
| Everyday looking older
|
| Covered up in grease and dirt
|
| Whole world upon my shoulders
|
| With my name on my shirt
|
| I got my name on my shirt
|
| My name on my shirt
|
| Name on my shirt |