Moving Along

If I could move, you know, I would try and tell you

How it all went gone to seed.

If I could move when you shoot,

I'd fire back at you.

I'm in an awful way.

When I was poor I was a harder man, I tell you.

Worked forty-seven hours a week.

But with holes in my shoes.

Didn't have no blues.

Now I'm in an awful place.

Now you're cutting me off at the knees.

And you're cutting me off at the heart.

I caught some trouble under my feet.

But I gotta be moving along.

If I could choose, you know, I would never tell you.

But now I got no time to weep.

If I could move in these boots,

I'd run over you.

I'm in an awful way.