Slate - Uncle Tupelo

In memory of a miner

Who dragged himself to work

And worked himself to death

Working for someone else

We follow each other around

On shaky ground

His life had become to him

Worthless in many ways

An expired product off the shelf

Working for someone else

We follow each other around

On shaky ground

The nature of his work

Gave him a minstrel color

Twenty hours a day

Little time he had for others

We follow each other around

On shaky ground

Never got to see the world

He got a funeral and this miner’s song

There is no right or wrong

Now it’s down to the wire

Facing six feet under

Can only wonder and stare

His name was a number