He's a hard-workin' man, workin' hard at his work
Puts his heart in his work, but his work hardly pays him enough to get by
In this economy
He wakes up before dawn, every day of his life
Workin' real late, comin' home after midnight
He's never seen the sun
He doesn't know what it looks like

And he was born on the day the Church ran out of bibles
He was born on the day the waterslide burned down
He was born on the day the network cancelled According To Jim
And he'll die on the day his heart stops beating, beating, beating
Beatin' like a big-ass drum

His blood runs thick like oil through an engine
His heart's like an engine, and he's like a truck
But he's not a truck, no matter how much he wishes he was
He's got sweat on his back and grease in hair, blisters on his fingers and dust in his lungs
Fire in his guts and a stain on his blue jeans, gunk in his eyes and a mouth full of cuss words
Skin like plywood, balls full of Campbell's Chunky Soup
And he loves his country

And he was born on the day they tore down the TGI Friday's
He was born on the day that all of the milk went bad
He was born on the day that Facebook changed its newsfeed layout
And he'll die on the day his heart stops beating, beating, beating, beating

He was born on the day they burned the Pope for witchcraft
He was born on the day the moon blew up
He was born on the day before the day after Christmas Eve
And he'll die on the day his heart stops beating, beating, beating
Beating, beating, beating, beating
Beatin' like a big-ass drum