The Getting By III

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 seems to come from all this work
No matter how hard I try

You know I believe in the Son, I ain't no backslider
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

They've got the treasure laying way up high
There just might be a million mansions
But when I look up
All I see is sky

Maybe it's the getting by that gets right underneath you
Swallows 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 'til the getting's good

Green ribbon in 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
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
But maybe it's the stuff it takes to get up in the morning
And put another day in, son, and hold you 'til the getting's good