I'm selling papers by the river for a nickel.
Shining shoes by the courthouse for a dime.
I'm pushing carts at Maria's Market for a quarter.
And no one knows my name, it's only mine.

I empty garbage cans filled up with once-important things.
And think that menial labor will be but a while.
But then the taunting and the laugh track starts within me.
"There's no rewarding job for you to do my child."

So keep on slaving away
tomorrow and today.
It is God's design, who cares if it is crazy?
The greener grass is still
on someone else's hill,
and you'll never pitch your tent there if you're lazy.

I've got half a mind to turn into some criminal,
and rob every bank in town one afternoon.
If I am caught I'm sure that justice would be fatal.
It would not spare this poor boy from certain doom.

But if I get away..., oh if I get away;
can you imagine just how far I'd go?
I'd find a lady fair, drive Cadillacs, and wear
only the finest in designer clothes.

But I keep slaving away
tomorrow and today.
It's the universe's joke to keep me broken.
The rich man's sweetest wine,
I never taste I find,
when I go to fill my cup I'm short a token.