You'll never understand

“YOU’LL NEVER UNDERSTAND”

You see the dirty boots when I walk through the door,

You see the grease and the dust on the floor.

You see me tired, barely keeping my eyes open,

But you don't see the miles and the promises I've broken.

Not because I don't love you, God knows that I do,

But sometimes this job takes everything out of you.

You hear me say, “I'm fine,” when I'm running on empty,

But you don't know the weight that a paycheck can carry.

You can watch the videos,

You can hear the stories,

But until you've stood out there

You don't know what it means.

You'll never understand

What it means to work with your hands,

To give your blood, your sweat, your back,

Just to put some food on the table again.

You'll never know the feeling

Of watching that clock hit quitting time,

Knowing your family's waiting

But your body ain't yours tonight.

You can call it just a job,

You can say we're crazy for what we do,

But until you've lived this life,

You'll never understand what it takes from you.

You don't know what it's like at two in the morning,

When the wind's blowing hard and the rain starts pouring.

When the iron starts shaking and the pressure climbs,

And you trust the man beside you with your whole damn life.

You don't know about the calls from back home,

When your little girl says, “Daddy, when you coming home?”

You tell her, “Soon, baby,” though you don't know when,

Then hang up the phone and get back at it again.

You don't see the man

Behind the hardhat and steel toes,

You don't see the sacrifice

That nobody knows.

You'll never understand

What it means to work with your hands,

To give your blood, your sweat, your back,

Just to put some food on the table again.

You'll never know the feeling

Of watching that clock hit quitting time,

Knowing your family's waiting

But your body ain't yours tonight.

You can call it just a job,

You can say we're crazy for what we do,

But until you've lived this life,

You'll never understand what it takes from you.

There's pride in being tired,

There's honor in the scars,

There's a different kind of brotherhood

When you're working underneath the stars.

We don't do it for the glory,

Hell, most folks don't know our names.

We do it 'cause somebody's gotta work,

And somebody's gotta pay the price.

So when you see that old truck rolling home,

And a blue-collar man finally walks through that door,

Don't ask him why he's so damn tired.

Just know he gave the job everything he had

So the people he loves could have more.

You'll never understand

What it means to work with your hands,

To miss birthdays, miss holidays,

And still get up and do it all again.

You'll never know the silence

After twelve hours of noise,

When you're sitting in that truck alone

Thinking about the ones you love.

You can call it just a job,

But to us, it's a way of life.

And until you've lived these long damn days,

You'll never understand the sacrifice.

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