Our clothing isn’t new, seen from the holes repaired.
Newspaper out says this is what we want, poor washing in despair.
Couldn’t be we’re being held under, no we must like missing our numbers.
Cannot pull the trigger while heart thumping, guess it’s back to work for nothing.
Find what gods really want, labor with an entrance but no ways out.
Across our globe different situations, poverty in diverse faces.
Couples bundled for safety in numbers, deleted without any problems.
Saviors don’t exist for the rich, they exist to keep a hurt man fooled to dig ditches.
Plenty more to bury us and take our place.
Worn fingers across the globe daily news without faces.
Poor people will be with you always.
Someone has to be low working impossible jobs for unsustainable wages.
There’s no problem because the poor like being poor.
Yeah they like feeling similar to manure.
We’re just helping them live in filth as they love.
Our gods get angry when a poor face looks up, above.