On The Streets


There's a kid crying on the street,
His hands are dirty and his clothes are worn
The rocks dig in to his shoeless feet,
And the passersby look at him with disdain and scorn

Welcome to the future, beautiful, shining bright
Economic prowess brings meaning to our lives
Our machines of profit neglect the cogs below
Our bank accounts rise quickly, intelligence so slow

There's a man wiping spit off his face,
The life on the street is not the one he had chose
His Harvard MbA now seems such a waste,
He lost his job to robots, sometimes that's the way it goes

Welcome to the future, beautiful, shining bright
Economic prowess brings meaning to our lives
Our machines of profit neglect the cogs below
Our bank accounts rise quickly, intelligence so slow

There's a kid dying on the street,
His hands are bloody and his clothes are torn
Beaten by some other kids for scraps he had to eat
Another life is taken so soon after it's born







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