The White Knuckle Flyers

Lyrics

Nobody © 2018 J. Bickerstaff
V
He starts his day when the sun comes up and works until it goes back down
Can to can’t, seven days a week, you never see him out hanging around
People counting on him every day, and they don’t even know he’s alive
The invisible man of Immokalee, doing what he can to survive
V
Crossed the border from old Mexico when he was just seventeen
Arrived empty-handed in the land of plenty, hoping for something, somewhere in between
The work is hard and the pay is low and there ain’t no mercy for pain
With a hundred like him waiting down on Third St., it just don’t pay to complain
CH
There are troops on the border, planes in the air until election day goes by
November to May they all go away, and everybody knows why
When there’s a chill in the air and the crops come in
Those buses come rolling down Interstate 10
Texas to Florida and back again
Hauling nobody … nobody at all
V
He picks half a ton in the Florida sun and makes fifty dollars a day
And as soon as the bus pulls up to the curb, El Diablo takes it away
A dirty mattress and five to a room, standard at the Blocker hotel
Twenty-five dollars every miserable night, a bargain for a room in hell
V
He can’t move up and he can’t move out and there’s only one way home
Invisible chains bind just the same until the season is over and done
A choice between the lesser of evils, La migra or the boss’ iron hand
And even the dirt packed under his nails belongs to another man.
Chorus