The small voice is growing
No longer calling out in the night
They're shouting from the roof tops
The clatter is growing
The factions are forming

The middle class is gone
The rich are calling the shots
The poor are growing tired
They're rising up
in spite of the rich man's money

They're swaying the nation
and moving mountians
But for every man who stands up to the system
two men fall Back down

But for every two men who fall
Four more join in
Their voice is growing
It's getting louder
The meek shall inherit the Earth
But not without a fight.