A.S. Coomer - Worker Bee Lyrics

I watch the crack in the pane of the window fill with snow
I tape some plastic on it but I don't think it'll hold
I hear a mournful whistle on that wicked winter wind that blows

Spit on the shit, man, shine the bricks
I'm working and working just to make another man rich
I'm a drone, baby, a worker bee
Well that's just the kind of life for the likes of you & me

I pick my check on Friday then that weekend comes
Cindy's got the kids, Lord knows, man, I got that rum
I'll be a-screaming and a-singing like I did when I's young
Won't have a dime for the time I wasted 'fore Monday comes

The socks on my feet are made of mostly holes
I feel every rock in the street & that winter's cold
Ain't got no money to spend, no needle of my own to hold
I hope that weather warms up before my shoes decide to go