So
metimes I think I'm going crazy.
Staring at the same four walls.
Waiting for the working day to end.
Then I get home so wasted, worn out.
I curse at you and tell you.
How I've done the work of ten to fifteen men.
How I've struggled for my money.
Sweated blood to get us by, yeah.
Well I'm tired of it honey.
Think I'm gonna have to leave here for a while.
All you hear are hard luck stories.
And the ways I look at life.
And the way I think the world treats me.
And the way that I treat my wife.
I never seem to look at you.
And see that somewhere underneath.
A pair of tired eyes are crying out.
Well you know I work hard all day long.
Let me kiss you once with meaning.
Just to kill this nagging doubt.
Well you don't deny I do you proud.
And you expect me to be tired.
You say there's no future in our lives.
While I persist I'm putting out the fire.
All you hear are hard luck stories.
Just a few well chosen words.
'Cause you're still the woman of a working man.
You've got the heart of a working girl