When Rhetoric Dies

We raise the flags and statues to our mission
 We've spoken out in slogans and in campaigns
 Talked and talked on almost every issue
 Where oppression of the masses is the constant theme
 But what does this mean to a little town in Iowa
 Where the jobs have gone down-stream, down-south, down-and-out
 Where their fingers used to work to the bone all day
 Profits rise and fall and starvation is a game
 Where is the food that used to cover their table
 Where is the sense of pride at the end of the day
 To the face of a thriving corporation
 What could a dying family possibly say
 On the face of every American worker
 Is the constant fear that their job will not remain
 As the CEO is planning his vacation
 To kill or be killed is the nature of the beast
 Where is the food that used to cover their table
 Where is the sense of pride at the end of the day
 To the face of a thriving corporation
 What could a dying family possibly say
 Stand in line, take a number, you sell your soul
 Then watch it crumble
 Into a pile of rubble that used to be
 Your job
 Your life
 Your family's daily bread
 Dry and stale malnourished kids
 The house is sold for a degrading bid
 Do we continue to talk
 Or do we take a hammer to their chains
 To their chains ...