Tin Can Roses

Gregory Alan Isakov

In the morning
In the morning
In the morning you will know
Why it's golden
Why I scorched in
The mid-western sun
Am I folding my hands on the table
On the streetside and watch
You will say, son
You will say, son
Well, I do believe you're working

Just throw me, throw me your tin can roses
And throw me, throw me your tin can roses

And you'll notice
And you'll know this
And you'll know this when it's right
That I've worked for
I've worked for
My whole damn life

So throw me, throw me your tin can roses
Throw me, throw me your tin can roses

And throw me, throw me your tin can roses
And throw me, throw me your tin can roses