Listen: “My People Come From the Dirt”
There’s a package store ‘cross the highway from the poultry plant
And when your shift is up that’s where you get a pint and your lotto ticket at
And out back there’s a dumpster where you can sit around and drink
And think of all the bridges you know you’ll never get to cross
My people come from the dirt, full choke and steel guitar
Cigarettes and whiskey, and a dog chained in their yard
My people come from the dirt, white bread and kerosene
Catfish and flatbeds, sweat stains and retreads, okra and Ecclesiastes
There are weeping saviors tattooed to the shoulders of the dispossessed
And muddy rivers of time flowing nowhere from somewhere back deep in our past
It’s treeless and bleak, and trash is scattered over stubble in the surrounding fields
There’s busted lips, kids riding on hips, and songs of longing and loss.
My people come from the dirt, full choke and steel guitar
Cigarettes and whiskey, and a dog chained in their yard
My people come from the dirt, white bread and kerosene
Catfish and flatbeds, sweat stains and retreads, okra and Ecclesiastes
Yea, my people….they come from the dirt.
Salvation is the only antidote to this poverty and disgrace
And pride is the only card left to play when it comes to saving face
So you always better watch your back, and don’t you ever spare the rod
When you’re standing there in the crosshairs of your angry and jealous God.
My people come from the dirt, full choke and steel guitar
Cigarettes and whiskey, and a dog chained in their yard
My people come from the dirt, white bread and kerosene
Catfish and flatbeds, sweat stains and retreads, okra and Ecclesiastes
Yea these are my people, and my people come from the dirt
