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We raise the flags and statues to our mission
We've spoken out in slogans and in campaigns
Talked and talked on almost every issue
Where oppression of the masses is the constant theme
But what does this mean to a little town in Iowa?
Where the jobs have gone downstream, down south down and out
Where their fingers used to work to the bone all day
Profits rise and fall and starvation is a game
Where is the food that used to cover their table?
Where is the sense of pride at the end of the day?
To the face of a thriving corporation
What could a dying family possibly say?
On the face of every American worker
Is the constant fear that their job will not remain
As the CEO is planning his vacation
To kill or be killed is a nature of the beast
Where is the food that used to cover their table?
Where is the sense of pride at the end of the day?
To the face of a thriving corporation
What could a dying family possibly say?
Stand in line, take a number
You sell your soul then watch it crumble
Into a pile of rubble that used to be your job, your life
Your family's daily bread, dry and stale, malnourished kids
The house is sold for a degrading bid
Do we continue to talk, or do we take a hammer to their chains?
To their chains
To their chains
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