Do they work, three hundred and eighty times more than you do? Do they know, three hundred and eighty times more than you do? Do they starve, three hundred and eighty times more than you do? Then why the hell, do they make, three hundred and eighty times more than you do?

Well I think, this is going too far, I think they are getting away with our future, our past, everything that we once had And I work, and I like it, I haven’t had it bad so far but my degree, seems to be, worth less than the paper it was printed on

And my friends, and my family, stuck working dead end jobs what did they do, to deserve it, a minimum wage barely helping at all?

Pull yourselves up by your bootstraps, is what they always say they always forget to tell you, just how the boots get made

They are products of thievery, of telling the poor to be grateful they are fine with you starving, as long as you’re willing and able

to work, three hundred and eighty times more than they do to know, three hundred and eighty times more than they do to starve, three hundred and eighty times more than they do to make, three hundred and eighty times less than they do

So I think its time to redefine, just how this wealth is spread who deserves to benefit, who deserves to be fed things seem to be getting worse, but we can still resist And I’m no master at economics, but let me tell you this:

You’re worth, more than the sweat off your brow you’re worth, more than the night shifts allow your worth, is something that they can’t buy your worth, is only yours to define

Because we are worth more than their dollars