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Broken Dreams Printable Version PRINTABLE VERSION
by Zero, Nigeria Oct 17, 2006
Culture , Human Rights , Peace & Conflict   Poetry


Had a job that paid real well.

Got laid off and then came hell.

They gave it to some foreign jerk

and didn't care I had no work.

Paid him less and dogged him more,

then raised the prices in their store.

Guess that's how they pay the rent.

Now I live inside a tent.

Worked a lifetime for my place.

Fought the demons face to face.

Had no chance to turn around.

Some banker's got that piece of ground.

Owned a car, it wasn't much,

and a few odd things and such.

Had to sell them for some food.

This whole scene is really rude.

Used to have some friends you know.

It's not the same without the dough.

Funny how they let it stand.

Wouldn't even shake my hand.

Remembering I had a life.

A couple kids, and yes a wife.

They are gone and so's my dog,

thanks to some fat corporate hog.

My son went off to fight their war.

Lost his leg and so much more.

Then they cut back on his pay.

I ask you folks, is that OK ?

America is truly great

if you get that tax rebate.

But when your just a working stiff,

you're living on a slippery cliff.

It's just fine for them elite.

Got it good and don't compete,

for the simple things we need.

All that wealth, and so much greed.

Broken dreams are what you get.

Shattered lives and to much debt.

When the special interests rule,

the rest of us are just a tool.



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