I stand on the rubble that is left
of the American dream. A great society
new deal all under attack by those who
Keyboards and cubicles replace furnaces
looms, production lines that are all
And in this land of hope and change, troubles
are a coming. Wall street flexes muscles of
bubbles and bust.
Money dictates elections as one vote means
little as the ruling class funds and controls
all. Has it ever been any other way?
We call them many names as the look alike
campaigns drag on and on images flood
airwaves like brainwashing on steroids.
I stand on the rubble that is left of the American
dream, pick up a brick, look at the glass ceiling
throw it and watch it bounce off.