Split at the seams there’s a line between, the justified and wrong, the capitalists and the fiend.
Citizens can be perceive, as Americans in the dream, but one is an addict, while the other’s star beams.
What makes the serration, in this divided States nation?
A democrat or republican, independent or an unknown corrugation.
Is it wealth against shortage, golden platters versus porridge?
Should one care about the problem, or does one choose to ignore it?
It used to be black and white, now we serrate by the class,
While the lower and middle class struggle, those in the upper classes laugh.
Millionaires and billionaires ride yachts, prostitutes sell hots,
Gangsters bang on the block, farmers crops rot.
There are not homeless people in Chicago, about to freeze to the death,
We peasants should not complain, SSI and welfare are cutting checks.
For we all eat like the Hannity’s, there is no sorrow, no poor,
This country is truly equal, none of us see eviction letters on doors.
There’s an economic segregation, we can’t just turn our eyes away,
While the government shuts down, politics tell citizens eat cake.
Watch the waitress on shift, make a mistake and get dismissed,
While reps and senators sit in a room, make mistakes and get cuffed on the wrist.
Is it equal to tax, those who eat scraps, and sell clothes off their back?
While other’s benefits wax, and they grow more affluent by the max.
Well we present the expression of grief birthed in the weak, with stanzas written in bloody ink,
Samaritans weep for a bite to eat, watch these native’s gamble defeat for a rise in prosperity.
Hear tales of those sheep hunted wolves of the streets, counseling success over ghetto beats,
For a one in a million family to not weep, risen too high from low class scarcities.