that carve their souls into the soil,
For the women that slave the stove,
that break their backs with love and toil,
For the young girl that cries out at the oppression,
that knows what should be and then what really is.
For the young boy that hurts inside for how he acts,
who's sad by his own limitations, by how much he takes and how little he gives
For the bakers and the builders,
For the toilers and the tillers,
For the saints and for the sinners,
For those who don't even know
For the grief-stricken and the passion-joyful,
For those who worked to get to where they're at,
and for those who worked to keep what they were given.
For those who made much out of humility,
For those who made much out of being driven,
For those who seek the sun and the stars,
For those who seek to go real far,
For those who stay at home and live,
For those who give back and then again give.
For them the sun does rise and set,
For them the world is flat spread on the table,
those folks will take every talent and opportunity that they get,
and make more out of those than any man has ever been able.