From the recording Bag Lady Blues
Paper says the fat cats gettin' more than their share.Money doesn't trickle downI'm getting nowhereI'm down, bout as far as I can go.I don't want to be a bag lady no more.
Over there that engineer sells papers on the street. His baby cries the whole night through without enough to eat. What's wrong with this picture? That's what I'd like to know!I don't want to be a bag lady no more.
I sleep under this shopping cart to shield me from the rain. You know this pint of whiskey kinda shield me from my pain. I'm tired, I'm aching, my body's weary and sore. I don't want to be a bag lady no more.
I don't need a hand out, just a helping hand. Once I'm on my feet again, I know that I can stand.I don't need no pitycause baby I know the score!I don't want to be a bag lady anymore.
Listen Mr. President,pay atention to my pleas!I hate this life I'm livin',It's like some rare disease.I don't need no pitybaby I know the score!I don't want to be a bag lady no more.