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in memory of a miner who dragged himself to work and worked himself to deathworking for someone else we follow each other around on shaky ground
his life had become to him worthless in many ways an expired product off the shelf working for someone else we follow each other around on shaky ground
the nature of his work gave him a minstrel color twenty hours a day little time he had for others we follow each other around on shaky ground
never got to see the world he got a funeral and this miner's song there is no right or wrong
