Song Lyrics - Class Warfare

If I dare to compare... this is a little Dylanesque protest.... It's class warfare but I don't care....

I made a mistake and read the news today
About how a pale expressionless man got away
With hurting people and polluting his way
To a golden parachute while we all slave away

Am I supposed to be happy about this turn of events?
When a man sits in a tower and manipulates dollars and cents
Because people really aren’t anything to him but malcontents
I just shook my head and added to my list of discontents

So what’s the story?
Why does wrong get the glory?
Why is salvation illusory?
Why do good men live in poverty?
Why do the rich write our history?
Why do the meek remain thirsty?
Why do the quenched kill our country?
Why is God's love such a mystery?
What’s the story?
What’s the story?

Everybody’s telling me I’m just jealous
Always sitting around and drinking with the fellas
Not knowing what to do, expecting someone to tell us
Believing the rich work hard to try and deceive us

But that ain’t it my good friend
You see life ain’t all about accumulatin’
And to choose to live humbly is worth glorifin’
So try to understand because I ain’t apologizin'

So what’s the story?
Why does wrong get the glory?
Why is salvation illusory?
Why do good men live in poverty?
Why do the rich write our history?
Why do the meek remain thirsty?
Why do the quenched kill our country?
Why is God such a phony?
What’s the story?
What’s the story?

When is the human race ever going to learn
You can’t keep taking and never waiting your turn
There’s no virtue in selfishness and what you earn
You know who said it but it’s her books time to burn

I’m going just say these things and put myself out there
I don’t care if you think I’m a loser whose going nowhere
‘Cause if I don’t say something then whose gonna care?
You can laugh but it's time for some class warfare

So what’s the story?
Why does wrong get the glory?
Why is salvation illusory?
Why do good men live in poverty?
Why do the rich write our history?
Why do the meek remain thirsty?
Why do the quenched kill our country?
Why is God for some men only?
What’s the story?
What’s the story?

I know their type ‘cause I’m not so young anymore
They smile at you but their sincerity is something to ignore
It’s not real because they’re really looking at the floor
Just hoping you go away so they can keep mining the ore

It’s a loser’s lament and I know that’s where it’s at
I’m may cry but I tell you I’m not impressed with all that
You take your millions and be a fat cat
But I'm not afraid of you because I ain’t no rat

All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2011. The Suburban Poet

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