I was the cleaning mannI was the cleaning mannListened to the radio play 'Cowgirl in the Sand'nWhen I was the cleaning mannnI was the cleaning mannAfter everyone had comenTo talk and drink and dancenI could see the evening scene reflecting in the cansnnNow echoes of the empty room return with lonelinessnAnd in the darkness of the nightnI take the devil's handnWhen I was the cleaning mannnI was death's handnI was heroinnTo somebody I shouldn't have beennnI was heroinnI was death's handnI was the thief who stole all those women and mennI stood at the funerals of relatives and friendsnAnd like a Midas eye wishing my greed and curse would endnnWhen I was the cleaning mannWhen I was the cleaning mannWhen I was the cleaning man