The Earth's treasures lay before you,
Hear our songs we sing.
Ain't go no riches, but we got the Blues
to keep us company,
And experience to help you climb them bare stairs.
They're our songs of jubilee and desolation,
And how things use to be.
Lyrics that tell of our dreams,
Lyrics that tell of our fears.
Some don't know about them,
Or just don't want to,
And not all can work that pen like you.
So give a microphone to us all;
Mommas handling male responsibilities,
People angry 'cause their stomachs empty,
Workers robbed of compensation,
And blue collars who toil day and night.
Remember our hymns,
So that a window can appear.