Close window **a local author I admire, James Alexander Thom, at one point wrote, "There are things more sacred than the bottom line." South of the Border (Tim Grimm) Fot twenty-two years he worked on the line A yearly paid vacation suited him just fine Two kids in college with a better life ahead Whatever you do, don't feel sorry for him He worked on the line with a circle of friends Just like a family, it was more than work to him Then one day they stabbed him between the shoulder blades With a blue-collar pink slip and one week's bonus pay (chorus) Feel sorry for the homeless on the street Feel sorry for the hungry-- they've got no food to eat Feel sorry for the children who'll never know a mother And those bastards who sent his job South of the border He sits there in silence at the kitchen table She know that he'll speak the words as soon as he is able And later in the evening, she'll lay her hands upon him And try to ease, try to soothe The darkness that fell on him It's as close as they get to in these trying times In the daylight he can hardly look her in the eye (chorus) Violence is a state of mind we all have run across A blacktop road, a forty-five, a beat up pickup truck The darkst of visions raced across his mind At the fishin' hole, a beer in hand, tryin' to keep from crying Too old to start again, too young to die The only things to cling to are his good wife and his pride (chorus) © 2000 Steel Cabinet Publishing BMI Close window