all of us, haulin and singin and spillin juice. mister charlie
is a-comin, and we all gotta run, but not 'til we get what's due. the reefers  are droppin
the stomp of our feet
the ofay don't deal in coal,

but we do.

we're all in west hell, deep below, sell out
dressed in our righteous rags, draped down.
collar a nod, hear our words
we're aunt hagar's kids, we're just like you.

all these frail eels, and i, coal scuttle blond, all of us smokin

each other.

and all these jar heads tryin to catch our attention, but all the girls are here
for each other.
the old cuffee girls, with the gut-bucket beat, stayin here long after the song is done.
don't want to go home to thousand on a plate and the bear.

young suits, but lovely faces.

the big apple ain't been good to us, but we made our way here.