Hands in Your Pocket


We're all victims of the system, still we love to place the blame,
we're running out of choices and there's no rules to the game
I'm getting tired of feeling this way,
what can a single man do? what can he say?
Every day you walk the edge of a knife,
you're left with nothing at the end of your life
They've got their hands in your pocket,
they'll take the clothes off your back
They'll stop you like a heart attack
We put people into power but we fight our wars alone,
they take such good care of the rest of the world,
but, what about the folks?
At home, oh yeah! Point the finger at the man you chose,
he'll say he's sorry, but it's just the way it goes
He sits in judgement like a king on a throne,
'till that November when he'll beg for a bone
Brother, don't ignore the facts!







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