I fight a battle, I fight a war
To find a job that I adore.
But it must pay well my mother shouts,
But it must be growing my father pouts.
How can I worry about such things
When I can barely find the means
To get a job at all?
The economy is dying.
People are poor, people are crying.
It’s about who you know, not what you do.
It’s not about your work but who you screw.
I want to do great things, I wish to inspire.
But in a world like this, how can I desire
To make a difference?
The one percent controls it all
Whereas I can only seem to fall
Further in debt, farther from my goal
All I can do is sell my soul
To the demon of business
Absorbed in his richness
What am I to do?
The American Dream is now dead.
All I have left is one tear to shed.