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Oil Drum

from Third Hand by Wooden/Apple/Heart

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lyrics

I don’t know about pain, I don’t know about anything. Police vans surround us hover like a fever dream. We want higher wages, we want a healthy life ensured. I want to take my baby out to dinner, yeah I’ll front the bill. That’s more than you can offer so we’re striking on the hill. And it’s humming like a drum. Running out of steam, drinking gasoline if you know what I mean.

Talk about the shame, talk about the poverty. Picket line is buzzing down where the batons swing. The sun in February’s never been so kind to me. I wanna pay my share of the groceries, I’m not in it for the thrill. It’s there if you are willing but we’re striking on the hill. It’s shining like a dime. Dancing in the sand, playing with the band, jumping like salmon over a dam.

We’re screaming for survival, they’re going for the kill. It’s not something we should beg for but we’re striking on the hill. And we smile for the drone. Sinking like a stone, picking from the bone, feeding each other yeah we’re never alone.

credits

from Third Hand, released December 19, 2020

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