Waiting until my dying day
That's when I pack these tired blues away
That's when I go to lay down in my grav e
That'll be my flying day
Wondering what I'm working for
Ain't gonna be your lowdown dog no more
Ain't gonna bleach and scrub your kitchen floor
I wonder what I'm working for
Making tiny feet for shoes
Didn't have the right to pick and choose
Didn't know the freedom I would lose
In making tiny feet for shoes
Working dozen to the nine
Feels like I'm just serving time
Waiting in this goddamn line
Hell or heaven, I'll be fine
Cooking nothing in the pan
That's the way life dealt my hand
That'll be my living last demand
To get something from this land
Playing around the toes of time
Waiting for the spark that'll free my mind
That'll put unhappiness behind
Just looking for an exit sign
Writer(s): Margaret Murphy Fiedler, Guy William Fixsen
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