New Age Slave

Society still sets the stage, So anxiety will feed our rage, With something we cannot digest, That makes us feel like second best... The prize we win in this charade, Is summized by who is less than paid, Divide that by your social class, And become a product of the past... Buffeted by all the poor, That stand before a half closed door, Not concerned by what they see, Since we're the ones who want the key... Not the one thats made of lead, But the one that's gold instead, Elitist think we'll steal their wealth, To have a chance to free ourself.... But it seems our debt is never paid, Until we're dead and left to lay, So they can make another million, Backs forfeit another trillion...