New Homes for Idle Hands


Suburbs tremble again, fearing the have-nots at the window, collecting their fair share Guns and alarms aren't enough They demand justice, and every criminal locked away, as well as any kid who might do something wrong There's a jail out of town with fences so high we won't think about who's inside Neighbours are disappearing behind the bars Kids are doing time for petty crimes It don't matter who they are It don't matter that they're alive
A warehouse for victims of circumstance Cops are rounding up slaves; workers that can't complain or come late A workforce behind bars They'll make gadgets, circuit boards or fix cars It don't matter who they are It don't matter that they're alive Crime pays, ask the bankers floating bonds to build cages for the inner-city's "idle-hands"? instead of schools Factories with fences meet the prisons without walls We shall have your skulls They'll kick you to the ground You'll find yourself employed again On the inside







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