The Man (Tribute To

Mick Hucknall - Poverty



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Up every morning with the sun

I work all day til the evening comes

Blisters and corns all in my hands

Lord, have mercy on a working man



I guess I'm gonna die just like I’m living

In poverty



My pay goes down and my tax goes up

I drink my tea from a broken cup

Between my woman and Uncle Sam

I can't figure out whose fool I am



I guess I'm gonna die just like I'm living

In poverty



Oh, Lord, it's so hard

But it's fair

Everybody talks but

Nobody really cares

Lord!



I can't save a dime, can't buy me one cent

I pay my bills, I can't pay my rent

The old lady's fussing and the kids are crying

They won't let me join the welfare line



I guess I'm gonna die just like I'm living

In poverty

They say there’s one poverty

They say it's goin