(This is a rough draft of a song I'm working on. You're getting the edited version...lol! All stories in the song are taken from actual events) Far From Washington He puts his head in his calloused hands Yet another bill to pay And the check that he makes working down in the mines Won't last another day. The baby's wearing shop rags for diapers Because the washing machine gave out And through the thin walls of the apartment He can hear the neighbours shout. But you'll never hear his...