Drop of a Dime

The American Soul, When A Dollar Makes, Your Life Half or Whole.

At the end of the day, When all is well and awaken, Each possession you own and won, Just killed another American boy. We tell ourselves that the money will set us free, But we're trapped in sick maze, Another form of slavery to me. This won't end until the masses rise up to the, Masters of deceit and degaratory, Indignity, this ideology. We're made for nothing more than a wish and a salary. He told me we'll never let you go, I swear it's going down, not like the story you told. They're coming for your soul, We're going to take control.