The Getting By (Abridged)

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, 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