Front street

ice man
coal man
working by the dirty road, man
standing near the locomotive
on the river-side rails
flipping my lonely coin into the free air
i'm not going anywhere
it could be heads
it could be tails
and if all else fails
there's an old outhouse in my small backyard
and a Friday night poker game with unmarked cards
and cold beer, not much
but lots of laughter and such and such
and i'm driving a richer woman's nice car
she's telling me not to go too fast too far
but i'm the best looking guy in this whole damn town
and no matter what she says, i'll get around
ice man
coal man
living on the Front street, man
pulling those big blocks of ice
for their summer time party chill
she tells me i could just melt away
but i know i never will
living on the Front street, man
hauling tons of black coal dust
not for fun
but because i must
she tells me i could just burn away
but i'll be here for at least another day
ice man
coal man
working by the dirty road, man
flipping my lonely coin into the free air
i'm not going anywhere