When I get up, she swears that she don't hear itSays that I'm as quiet as a mouseI comb my hair and throw some water on my faceAnd back out of the stillness of our houseLately, my patience is in short supplyNothing good seems to ever come from all this workNo matter how hard I tryYou know I believe in the Son, I ain't no backsliderBut my people were told they'd prosper in this landStill, I know some who've never seen the oceanOr set one foot on a velvet bed of sandBut they've got their treasure laying way up highWhere there might be many mansionsBut when I look up, all I see is skyMaybe it's the getting by that gets right underneath youIt'd swallow up your every step, boy, if it couldBut maybe it's the stuff it takes to get upIn the morning and put another day in, sonThat holds you till the getting's goodGreen ribbon front doors, dishwater daysThis whole town is tied to the torso of God's mysterious waysMaybe it's the getting by that gets right underneath youIt'd swallow up your every step, boy, if it couldBut maybe it's the stuff it takes to get upIn the morning and put another day in, sonThat keeps you standing where you shouldSo put another day in, son, and hold on till the getting's good
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LETROU FEATURE
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When I get up, she swears that she don't hear it
Says that I'm as quiet as a mouse
I comb my hair and throw some water on my face
And back out of the stillness of our house
Lately, my patience is in short supply
Nothing good seems to ever come from all this work
No matter how hard I try
You know I believe in the Son, I ain't no backslider
But my people were told they'd prosper in this land
Still, I know some who've never seen the ocean
Or set one foot on a velvet bed of sand
But they've got their treasure laying way up high
Where there might be many mansions
But when I look up, all I see is sky
Maybe it's the getting by that gets right underneath you
It'd swallow up your every step, boy, if it could
But maybe it's the stuff it takes to get up
In the morning and put another day in, son
That holds you till the getting's good
Green ribbon front doors, dishwater days
This whole town is tied to the torso of God's mysterious ways
Maybe it's the getting by that gets right underneath you
It'd swallow up your every step, boy, if it could
But maybe it's the stuff it takes to get up
In the morning and put another day in, son
That keeps you standing where you should
So put another day in, son, and hold on till the getting's good
Speed
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