The Smell of Grass

It bothers you me lord, I know,
To look in there to my eyes;
It bothers you to lend your ears
And you have your own alibis.

Your friend Joe is a businessman
And he works hard for sure,
He's got a sky of his own
And its for him you endure.

I too have my yoke to drag through
And my nail digs in virgin earth;
My body smells like the morning grass
My labor, yet to meet my dearth.

The Sun chases me at times
And at times it's the Sun that I chase;
My home may not have what Joe produce
But his platter will have mine! Always!

So now when my feet bleeds
And the stars are shading my head,
I'll still hold the flowers without bowing
Hoping your conscience ain't yet dead.