Don't Dare Talk About White Male Privilege for the Poor

Justin Townes Earle Yuma Well he woke up that morning and he called into work Put on his daddy's old suit with a second-hand shirt All untucked, shoes untied, the people all snickered as he walked by So he stopped in a bar, bought a shot of Stevens, and another He bummed a cigarette, and sat talking with a stranger about the weather And then he paid his bill and he stepped outside, fell down into the street He cursed, and he cried as he climbed back up to his feet again So up the road he found a payphone and called his mom He said, "Mama I think I'll be coming home I been feeling so bad, and tired of this city Ain't been the same since I lost my pretty Angeline, Mama I miss her so It's been over a year and there ain't nothing I fear so much as being alone." And then he hung up the phone without saying good-bye Stopped in a store and bought a postcard and signed it "Fare thee well", and sent it back home to Yuma Lookin' back I'd say, it wasn't so much the girl As it was the booze and the dope And the way he took the weight of the world up upon his shoulders And let it wash the blue from his eyes as he grew colder As through all those lonely nights there left alone So he was just 23 when he stepped out on that ledge It was his weary heart that pushed him to the edge He was tired of living life, looking for love "A weary heart just needs a little touch And is it too much to ask?", he cried as he stepped into the wind He turned his back on the world and he fell back to Earth again So with the wind in his hair and smile on his face He crashed through the hood of an Olds '98 And he lay there dying on a cold winter's day all alone All alone