Graveyard Shift

Clock in at the Hollister plant when the ten o'clock whistle blowsSame machine, same grease, same achin' knees, twenty years in a rowCoffee in a dented thermos and a picture on my locker doorTwo kids in their Sunday clothes, that's what I'm doin' it for

It's the graveyard shift while Mercy Hollow sleepsSellin' off my nights so my babies never needNobody sees a man at three a.m.Diggin' his own grave a little every night for them

Pass my wife in the driveway every mornin' comin' homeShe's pullin' out as I pull in, two ships passin' on their ownI sleep through my boy's ballgames and my daughter's Christmas showWatch 'em later on her phone like a stranger in the back row

Doc says, "Slow down, son," and my back says the sameBut the mortgage don't care how bad a man's in pain

It's the graveyard shift while Mercy Hollow sleepsSellin' off my nights so my babies never needNobody sees a man at three a.m.Diggin' his own grave a little every night for them

Three a.m. in the break room, just the hum of the vending machineI bow my head on a folding chair where nobody's ever seen"Lord, just get me through to seven, keep these hands from goin' numbLet my kids have better than this, and someday let 'em know where it came from"

They don't hand out medals for a man who never missed a nightJust a paycheck on a Friday and a body that ain't rightBut the Good Book says the Father sees the things done out of sightAnd one day He'll reward 'em in the open, in the light

It's the graveyard shift while Mercy Hollow sleepsSellin' off my nights so my babies never needNobody sees a man at three a.m.But the Lord sees, and He's workin' right beside him

Seven o'clock whistleGoin' home