Things I Stole
If I lost my sight would you call me blind?
Would you save me the last flower in the spring?
Would you bring it to me on the day right after
And ask me if I could see?
And would you call to me and pick me up
Hitchhiking down the road?
Would you cow my pride with a club of your own?
Mix it like mud and motor oil
And would you believe I ain’t been called no thief
For any other thing that I stole?
If I lost my house would you kick me out?
Would you say you were sorry for me?
Would it stain your hands black like pine tree sap
That only bleeds from a living tree?
Would you call to me a song of relief
When I was down on the killing floor?
And did you know that I get more rich than you
Every time that you call me poor?
‘Cause whoever you are, I don’t care
Some things just ain’t for sale
Ain’t for sale
Would you drug me up and take me out
And dress me n the whitest, white, white gloves?
Would you hold me, squeeze me, scold me, tease me
And kick me down into the mud?
And if I cried enough, Lord, just outside
Screaming if I could
Would you open your door and from your porch
Tell it was for my own good
And would you believe I ain’t been called a thief
For all of the things that I could?