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Lyrics

6. Second-hand Smoke



You’d like to sing the blues

But you grew up with your pockets full of cash

You’re shufflin’ ‘round the campus

Puttin’ on your best white trash


Well, I’m pretty sure

Being rich ain’t no sin

But that ain’t no shanty

You grew up, grew up in


You wish you’d been a cropper

Or an Okie on the road to CA

But Dad was in munitions

Didn’t work for no WPA


You seen the old photos

The hunger and the hurt

You touch ‘em with your fingers

And you try, try to feel the dirt


You’d like to feel the blues

But you’re cranked up on gourmet joe

Your papa left a trust fund

Your momma’s at a fashion show


You’re singin’ ‘bout some guy

Luckless and broke

But ya seen it on the TV

It’s just second, second-hand smoke