Rust and Rhythm

(yeah) (here we go)

I got calluses on my palms from the timber and the steel

But you're talking 'bout a world that you don't even feel With

your soft little hands and your paper-thin plans (hah)

Soft hands, soft plans,

never worked the clay Sissy grip,

weak slip, talking all damn day I'm a blue-collar man with a

hammer in my fist And a life like this you could never

resist

Spent your mornings in the parlor,

drinking tea from a cup While we're digging out the trenches just

to keep the power up

Your soft liberal fingers never held a heavy load

(never did)

Soft hands, soft plans,

never worked the clay Sissy grip,

weak slip, talking all damn day I'm a blue-collar man with a

hammer in my fist And a life like this you could never

resist

Soft hands... never worked the day

(no sir)