Text: Gil Scott-Heron And Brian Jackson. Other. Three Miles Down.

Here come the mine cars, it's damn near dawn.
Another shift of men, some of them my friends, comin' on.
Hard to imagine workin' in the mines,
Coal dust in your lungs, on your skin and on your mind
I've listened to the speeches
but it occurs to me politicians just don't understand
the thoughts of isolation, ain't no sunshine underground
It's like workin' in a graveyard three miles down.

Damn near a legend as old as the mines,
things that happen in the pits just don't change with the times.
Work till you're exhausted in too little space.
A history of disastrous fears etched on your face
Somebody signs a paper, everybody thinks is fine
but Taft and Hartley ain't done one day in the mines.
You start to stiffen! You heard a crackin' sound!
It's like workin' in a graveyard three miles down.