After Taxes

I feel so good come payday

I think of all the things I'm going to

Buy when I pick up my pay

Don't you know, but then they hand me

That little brown envelope

I peep inside, Lord I lose all hope

Because from those total wages earned

Down to that net amount that's due

I feel the painful sense of loss between the two

There goes that bracelet for her arm

There goes that new fence for my farm

There goes that brand new Pontiac

There goes the shirt right off my back

You can dream about a honeymoon for two

You can dream but that's about all you can do

Because by the time old Uncle Sam gets through with you

You can buy her a pair of hose

A little powder for her nose

And take her down to Sloppy Joe's for beer

And stew them are the facts after tax

You can dream about vacation in the sun

You can dream but you can never have you one

Because by the time your good old Uncle Sam gets done

You've got just enough for gas

To see them city limits pass

And if you get back home fourth class

I'd say you won