He'd worked in coal mines since he'd turned 12
As a 30 year old man he coughed up black dust
His family depended upon him, so he kept working
And in time he wasted away, fighting for breath
He'd given a life, and the mine's owners his trust
But he'd only one life, his family bore the burden
They could barely afford the funeral's cost
Nothing changes, but name of every worker
If lives go on, shortened, the mine is still open
And time moves forward, ignorant of each loss
