The American Dream

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. 


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