Bottom feeders flourish

When the economy's a bust

When bad times are the norm

And good times turn to dust

When neighborhoods go south it's sad

But a sign of their demise

Is when a bunch of pawn shops open up

Before your very eyes

When stores close down or move on out

After years in the same place

Their memory is a radar blip

They leave without a trace

But as fast as they lock up their doors

Another shop moves in

It's the local pawn shop dealer

He's a shark without a fin

Like dollar stores and boarded doors

The pawn shop shows the way

That business has moved on out

Or closed or moved away

They prey on peoples hardship

They broker deals without a care

They don't need to know your history

They just know that you're there

The street has three new pawn shops

Palaces of buy back stuff

It's bad when there is one around

But, three...well that's enough

One opened by the Jeweller

Two doors down across the street

Now he's buying up possessions

Of everyone he meets

Folks who purchased jewellery

From Old Cy at his old store

For each twenty of it's value

The pawn shop gives you four

Cy can't afford to buy back

He doesn't have much money left

And besides his store insurance

Doesn't cover much for theft

The people at the Pawn shops

Took jobs and live in town

They trained two counties over

They succeed when times are down

It's a sign of the recession

Downtown dies and fades away

And then the bottom feeders surface

Their the ones who're gonna stay

You can look in the shop windows

Know who bought what and from where

You know the candlesticks were bought at Cy's

And you know who bought them there

The guitar that hangs beside them

That was pawned by Emma Rose

She needed money for the bills

When the fresh fish plant had closed

There's a snapshot of the township

Sitting inside on their walls

They pawn shop is successful

While the economy still falls

You can see a piece and start to cry

For you know just why it's there

There's no one here to help them

There's no jobs and it's not fair

They open up each morning

While the nights dregs still sleep outside

They have done two hours business

Before lights on at Cy's

It's a sad and constant story

Of just what a town's become

But when asked if they've been in there

The inhabitants go "mumb"

They never seem to close up

The town's never make it back

While most places lose money

Pawn shops make it by the sack

The bluesman has some stuff there

The bartender has some too

Even though her bar's still going

She did what she had to do

The street, it is it's own world

Jewelly shops, banks and bars

But inside the local pawn shops

Are hidden all the scars.