I begin to reflect on the evolution of the working person... What it meant to do labor, tend to fields of flock and flower ...and how far we've come to neglect hard work with the physical. we are all so digital now, we forget what our skin is even made of. "Highwayman" I was a highwayman. Along the coach roads I did ride With sword and pistol by my side Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five But I am still alive. I was a sailor. I was born upon the tide And with the sea I did abide. I sailed a schooner round the Horn to Mexico I went aloft and furled the mainsail in a blow And when the yards broke off they said that I got killed But I am living still. I was a dam builder across the river deep and wide Where steel and water did collide A place called Boulder on the wild Colorado I slipped and fell into the wet concrete below They burie
Because it exists and so do I...