Between every other
Odd-numbered November
You tell us that we’re slaves
So you might as well be master
After all you gave your last slaves
Plenty of bread
Half put out our hands
And half just shake our heads
You call it greed when I give five
To a man I see is poor
You tell me I don’t care
You say it should be more
So you shake me down and take my cash
And give the guy just four
Everything you do with guns
You love me when you make your runs
But I ain’t dumb, I know
That after the show
You’ll tell me what to drive to where
And charge me just to get there
It’s for my good you know
Your conscience tells you so
You’re on your way to heaven
But the place you’ve made me live in
Is nothing short of hell
It’s nothing short of hell
There’s gotta be something
There’s gotta be something free
This place got kinda twisted
So much quicker than you’d think
You’d think we’d learn our lesson
After watching others sink
But inside the little Social Clubs
The kids are taught to trust and love
Anything but self
They put it on the shelf
They serf the wake they should be mourning
And mourn the greatest gift of all
Instead of taking warning
Instead of taking warning
There’s gotta be something
There’s gotta be something free
When I sleep I seem to find it
I find it ‘cause I dream
I guess it’s time to find a way
To dream instead of waking
To take what’s for the taking
To see with eyes wide open
What I used to see while sleeping
The things I once was weeping
Are blessings for the reaping
Blessings for the reaping
It ain’t wrong to take some joy
In my own free will
It ain’t wrong to take some joy
In my own free will
You dance your ‘righteous’ dance
I’ll gladly take a pass
And dream while I see
I really am still free