Underpaid Scars

Sounds the alarm on the clock
 It's still dark night outside
 Begins a new day of work
 The streets are flooded
 With sadness when the workers
 Walk with their heads down
 The factory opens it's doors
 And encloses our freedom
 But we haven't lost hope
 The bus stops are filled
 With rows of angry slaves
 Going to their temporary jail
 We're not to blame - For being lower class
 We're not to blame - For having broken hands
 Underpaid scars!
 Today I heard another
 Worker lost his life
 At the factory next door
 I could not help thinking
 As I clenched my fists in anger
 Of the family he left behind
 He died to feed his kids
 He died to feed his dreams
 He died for a place to live
 He died murdered
 Murdered in front of you
 Murdered in front of me