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