Near the turn of the century,
so we would learn.
Truth depends on what “IS”
is in relative terms.
For each lie that gets swallowed
or spit from afar,
Leaves a stain on your dress,
so you’ll get no cigar.
In the land of the free,
now the home of the slave,
Lives the working class slob
who gets taxed to the grave.
For the lazy and alien,
stupid and poor,
Uncle Sam raids your wallet
and he’s looking for more.
Working class slob…
See the working class slob
as he sweats for his pay,
While some government hack
gives his money away.
Was there ever a doubt
once we gave them all power?
We’d get taxed every day
while they spend every hour.
From the head of his class
to the back of the line,
In the interest of fairness
so the doctrines opine,
From their ivory towers
hear the harpies’ harsh drones,
While the working class stiff
sheds more skins than he owns.
You working class slob….
As the captains of industry
lie in their beds,
Mom and Pop close up shop
as the wealth quickly spreads.
See the pink slips increase
as the unions decline.
Uncle Sam feeds them bread
that was once yours and mine.
See the parrots all parley
with the wolves in the pack.
All the donkeys keep braying,
“Pacaderms in the back!”
To the back of the bus
here comes change that will last.
“See the edge of that cliff?”
“Yes, it’s coming up fast.”
You working class slob….
Now there might be a moral
to the end of this tale.
Ask the pimps we’ve elected,
all their tricks are for sale.
Whatever you call it,
here’s the thing you must do….
Just hand them your wallet
and your grandchildren’s, too.
Working class slob…
I’m a working class slob…. |
Submission Name: Working Class Slob
