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 ...