When Rhetoric Dies

We raise the flags and statues to our mission
We've spoken out in slogans and 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 downstream 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
To their chains