Rest in peace

There won't be no rest, in peace

as goo-gobs garb the wealth and run

as the poor pull tubs to laundromats

to clean some clothes or pinch some grub

There won't be no rest, in peace

as ears hear the pigeons scream

see dogs tear the infant hides

to stay alive, to help a friend

The poor stare out upon the plentied land

dreaming of sharing heat the chosen have

knowing it's harbored within a legal band 

as they rot like death in an economic plan

They seek, they howl, they long for a share

burning desires tussling in their hair

tossing flames on the national spires

leveling cities in repetitive schemes

as the privileged fuss in disturbing dreams

o'er the paltry smut they reluctantly will share

Oh, oh, their tongues cry sore

awaiting gods to offer some chance

for what's stolen, what's lust

of the hobbled crowds in the wealthy mold

Oh, the silent pain rubbing the bones

of the struggling poor, the muddled core

parceled and packaged, wealth teasing the hands

of the needy observers of TV land