Lyrics

Close the shutters, lock the door
We can’t live here anymore
Wolves are howling at the door
God it’s hell to be poor
To be poor

Swallowed my tears, swallowed my pride
Everyday’s a struggle to survive
I’ve got family in Ohio
Time to bundle up my kids and go
And go

Gone are the nights
When he’d hold me tight
And we would dream of a better life
Where the air is clean
And the grass grows green
Our little slice of paradise
To be poor

Little children don’t you cry
This won’t be your last goodbye
But I promise we will stay afloat
If it floods I’ll build a boat
I’ll build a boat

Gone are the nights
When he’d hold me tight
Tell me we’re better than our circumstance
When the wolves are gone
The poor live on
Just like Joad’s in the Grapes of Wrath

Close the shutters, lock the doors
We can’t live here anymore
Wolves are howling at the door
God it’s hell to be poor
To be poor, to be poor, to be poor