I Spend My Days Below The Ground

Mine is a tale of many man,
 From Pikeville on west of Waco.
 I make my living with my back and my hands,
 Searching the caverns for coal.
 What's left of a man, too soon past his prime,
 Most days i feel like a slave,
 Doing my time on the company dime,
 Down in a rock solid grave.
 It's dreary and dark, deep down in the mine,
 But it's a life to which I am bound.
 Where dreams of a young man just whither with time,
 Since i never got out of this town,
 I spend my days below the ground.
 When I was a boy, about fifteen years old
 The mine wasn't part of my plan.
 I had big dreams, on down the road,
 To be a doctor or a business man.
 But then daddy, he died, with a chest full of coal
 And a new sense of duty arrived.
 Then I took his place, down in that black hole,
 And made sure the family survived.
 It's dreary and dark, deep down in the mine,
 But it's a life to which I am bound.
 Where dreams of a young man just whither with time,
 Since i never got out of this town,
 I spend my days below the ground.
 As I walk out the door, I look down the hall,
 Towards the room of my only son,
 And of the family pictures that hang on the wall,
 I pray someday he'll be the one,
 Who can break down the chain of three generations,
 And leave all this misery behind,
 Find a new town and a good occupation,
 And leave me with some peace of mind.
 It's dreary and dark, deep down in the mine,
 But it's a life to which I am bound.
 Where dreams of a young man just whither with time,
 Since i never got out of this town.
 It's dreary and dark, deep down in the mine,
 But it's a life to which I am bound.
 Where dreams of a young man just whither with time,
 Since i never got out of this town,
 I spend my days below the ground.