The ole man stand by the lone chute, he sold his calves t`day. He spits in the dust between his boots, as the semi pulls away. The slick blue check in his grimy hands, shoves down in his coat. It won`t make the payment on the land, or pay the interst on the note. Oh...it`s hard, hard times... He`s a young man with a loving wife, 2 children and a home. Plans to build a better life, and put a mortagage on his own. He lost his job when the boom went bust, still got bills to pay. Now he`s pickin` up cans in the roadside dust, she`s at the Feed-Rack cafe. Oh....it`s hard, hard times... Now the ole grey banker sits behind his desk, beneath a worried frown. Of the tangled mess of some good folks goin` down. He`s known some of `em for 30 years, and some point the finger of blame. An` no one sees his tears, except the one who shares his name. Oh...it`s hard, hard times... Oh...it`s hard, hard times...
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