|A man without a job is a stranger to the seasons
|The April rain will soak you like the worst November brings
|And we're tired of the excuses and the carefully worded reasons
|Without Winter there's no Summer
|Without Autumn there's no Spring.
|When the factories close down the life bleeds from the town.
|Some politicians tells us, 'move and build another home',
|But weren't they voted in to lead us?
|No one said they had to feed us.
|If they'd get us back our jobs
|Then we would take care of our own.
|For a man without a job
|Is a stranger to the seasons
|No music to the cycle of the changes will he hear.
|Like a band without a drummer
|There's no Winter, Spring, or Summer
|There's no rhythm to the passing of the
|Months that make the year.
|Everyone is poorer for the millions
|Who keep growing
|Whose season stays at Autumn
|And whose only colour's grey
|Though we get by on the dole
|It feeds the body, starves the soul
|And stirs the bitterness that's growing
|In the ones who've been betrayed.
|Stranger To The Season