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Fighting the system takes so much
time. . .
wreaking havoc on our troubled
lives
Covering miles without a car or
a truck
thumbing for rides, down on our
luck
Just to make it in the nick of
time
to stand in another welfare line
Mothers and babies hurting again
it’s a different war . . . but
a war, my friend
Rich man passes shaking his head
“Get a job” was all that he said
Sounds so easy from that point
of view
from the tinted glass he’s looking
through
Hallowed cheeks and sunken eyes
of a broken man with swallowed
pride
He stands on the corner by the
five and dime
with his eyes cast down on his
hand lettered sign
It says: WILL WORK FOR FOOD
while the cars pass on by
once in awhile he feels the contemptuous
glare
and raises his eyes to meet their
stare
“How dare he stand on the main
street in town?
He looks like a bum! Why’s
he hanging around?”
Why don’t you climb out of that
fine looking car, my dear
and ask him yourself? Here’s
what you might hear.
I was working up north fishing
got bad
the wife took sick then I lost
my Dad
I sold the boat and truck to make
ends meet
and to pay the Doctor up the street
I thought we’d make it if I find
work
I got to talking to a bone weary
jerk
he said it’s better down south
you’re bound to find work
So I’m living on the beach
in a makeshift tent
I can’t afford a car
I can’t pay the rent
But I’ll work for you around your
yard
or walk your dog or wash your car
I can paint your fence
if you’d let me friend
I don’t look like much
I look rough and thin
but I’d work real hard
you just say when. . .
So you shrug your shoulders
and hand him a buck
and you wish out loud
for a change in his luck
He tips his head and says Good
Bye
and thanks for the buck and he’s
starting to cry and you get real
pissed
as you look back at him
and say to yourself “he’ll probably
buy gin!”
What’d you think he’d do with that
one lone buck
rent a cadilac or buy a truck?
eat a T-bone steak
buy a can of beans?
maybe take a shower
or wash those jeans?
Well, you better go down to that
laundromat
and see where it’s really at
it’s a buck and a quarter for a
wash, my dear
So you did what you could, huh?
Well so did he, my dear
and the gin feels warm, like company
it’s cold on the beach in the driving
rain
it’s cold in the box car of a train
it’s cold on the corner by the
five and dime
and some of us are glad just to
be alive
You pass the same guy day after
day
and you don’t look back
you just look away
and you don’t think much about
what you say
You don’t know nothing except you’re
still OK
but pay attention it could be you
if the winds of change
should turn on you
and you find yourself without a
job
and your money goes down with a
savings & loan
and the stocks you bought should
crash and burn
and your family’s gone and your
health goes bad
and you sold the car to pay for
Dad
and that’s the last thing you really
had
Now you’re on the beach in a makeshift
tent
and a man walks by that you think
you’ve met
he looks rough and thin
and his sunken eyes lift to meet
your gaze
and you start to cry
and he offers you a drink of gin
while the rain pours down on your
newfound friend
Fighting the system takes so much
time
always standing in a welfare line
People are hurting they’re hurting
bad
the system is failing the people
are mad
It’s a different war, but a war,
my friend
some are fought with bullets, some
with gin
The folks who are working
are taxed to death
it’s hard to stop and take a breath
they send our jobs out of here
to places where the rules aren’t
really clear
and they pay a foreigner down on
his luck
a buck and a half to drive that
truck
12 hours a day
and he’s glad to have it
or so they say
and the corporations where he gets
his pay
their stocks keep rising and the
dividends pay
to some rich ass behind tinted
glass
who has the nerve to yell
as he drives right past
“Hey, get a job, you’re breaking’
my ass
with that welfare check!”
with a flick of a switch
the window shuts tight
and you wish you could choke him
with all of your might.
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