The streets are paved with garbage
and the air is thick with smog.
In a world of repetition,
ring my bell, I'm Pavlov's dog.

The beggars have no hands,
and the soldiers cannot see.
A flag hangs in my prison cell,
in the land of the free.

The children never cry out
and their footsteps never fall.
'Cause we define what's called a life,
and some are just too small.

Politicians map our future
in their picture perfect plan;
a world corrupt by power,
which in turn corrupts the man.

Our morals are immoral,
and our values have no worth.
It's nature versus nurture,
but we've known to lie since birth.

We're taught to love our neighbors,
but in turn neglect our own:
And so our "huddled masses",
huddle desperately alone.

We're serving in the kitchens,
while they're starving in the streets,
somewhere amidst the chaos formed
where sick and striving meets.

Leaders shout, "We have no money!",
from atop their golden hill.
While we, the workers down below,
just spin the workers' wheel.

Our rights are plainly written,
but we don't know how to read;
and so our every breath's abused
by those who choose to lead.

We're warned of other cultures
from our hole deep in the ground,
but if we stood up eye to eye
acceptance might be found.

They said that times were a-changing,
they say that times have CHANGEd.
Yet, still I see the bold outline
of social class arranged.

No hourglass turned sideways.
Time will not reach a halt,
but if we leave this world unchanged
it will be all our fault.

Instead, let's use our actions
like ripples in the sea
to build a world far better than
the one we've seen it be.