Letra Working Man’s Song - Morgan Wallen
This tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin'
Lookin' for my golden ticket, can't find no silver linin'
And these days, nine-to-five feels more like twenty-five to life, and
Tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin'
I punch the clock, wanna punch a ticket to New York and punch the boss
But they don't pay enough for me to cover that cost
So, I punch the Sheetrock instead
Cover my debts, keep the family fed
They've been promisin' me another dollar or three
But that talk is as cheap as these boots I'm wearin'
And that's been wearin', on more than my soul
And all that I know
This tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin'
Lookin' for my golden ticket, can't find no silver linin'
And these days, nine-to-five feels more like twenty-five to life, and
Tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin', nah
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah
Red, blue, right, left, they still workin' us to death
And whatever's left over at the end's to the IRS
Head above water but I'm kickin' like hell
Ain't nobody lookin' out for me but myself
Ain't no gettin' out from under all of these underpaid checks
And last time I checked
This tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin'
Lookin' for my golden ticket, can't find no silver linin'
And these days, nine-to-five feels more like twenty-five to life, and
Tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no)
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no, hell no)
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah
This tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin'
Lookin' for my golden ticket, can't find no silver linin'
And these days, nine-to-five feels more like twenty-five to life, and
Tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no)
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no)
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no)
(Hell no)
(Hell no)
(Hell no)
(Hell no)
Lookin' for my golden ticket, can't find no silver linin'
And these days, nine-to-five feels more like twenty-five to life, and
Tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin'
I punch the clock, wanna punch a ticket to New York and punch the boss
But they don't pay enough for me to cover that cost
So, I punch the Sheetrock instead
Cover my debts, keep the family fed
They've been promisin' me another dollar or three
But that talk is as cheap as these boots I'm wearin'
And that's been wearin', on more than my soul
And all that I know
This tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin'
Lookin' for my golden ticket, can't find no silver linin'
And these days, nine-to-five feels more like twenty-five to life, and
Tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin', nah
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah
Red, blue, right, left, they still workin' us to death
And whatever's left over at the end's to the IRS
Head above water but I'm kickin' like hell
Ain't nobody lookin' out for me but myself
Ain't no gettin' out from under all of these underpaid checks
And last time I checked
This tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin'
Lookin' for my golden ticket, can't find no silver linin'
And these days, nine-to-five feels more like twenty-five to life, and
Tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no)
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no, hell no)
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah
This tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin'
Lookin' for my golden ticket, can't find no silver linin'
And these days, nine-to-five feels more like twenty-five to life, and
Tryin' to make a livin' isn't supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no)
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no)
Supposed to feel like dyin', nah (Hell no)
(Hell no)
(Hell no)
(Hell no)
(Hell no)
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