Theres a Vietnam Vet with a cardboard sign Sitting there by the left turn line The flag on his wheelchair flapping in the breeze One leg missing and both hands free
No ones paying much mind to him The V.A. budgets just stretched so thin And now theres more coming back from the Mideast war We cant make it here anymore
And that big ol building was the textile mill That fed our kids and it paid our bills But they turned us out and they closed the doors 'Cause we cant make it here anymore
You see those pallets piled up on the loading dock Theyre just gonna sit there til they rot Cause theres nothing to ship, nothing to pack Just busted concrete and rusted tracks
Empty storefronts around the square Theres a needle in the gutter and glass everywhere You dont come down here unless youre looking to score We cant make it here anymore
The bars still open but man its slow The tip jars light and the registers low The bartender dont have much to say The regular crowd gets thinner each day
Some have maxed out all their credit cards Some are working two jobs and living in cars Minimum wage wont pay for a roof, wont pay for a drink If you gotta have proof just try it yourself Mr. C.E.O. See how far 5.15 an hour will go Take a part time job at one your stores I bet you cant make it here anymore
And theres a high school girl with a bourgeois dream Just like the pictures in the magazine She found on the floor of the laundromat A woman with kids can forget all that
If she comes up pregnant whatll she do Forget the career and forget about school Can she live on faith? Live on hope? High on Jesus or hooked on dope When its way too late to just say no You cant make it here anymore
Now Im stocking shirts in the Wal-Mart store Just like the ones we made before Cept this one came from Singapore I guess we cant make it here anymore
Should I hate a people for the shade of their skin Or the shape of their eyes or the shape Im in Should I hate em for having our jobs today No I hate the men sent the jobs away
I can see them all now, they haunt my dreams All lily white and squeaky clean Theyve never known want, theyll never know need Their shit dont stink and their kids wont bleed Their kids wont bleed in their damn little war And we cant make it here anymore
Will I work for food, will I die for oil Will kill for power and to us the spoils The billionaires get to pay less tax The working poor get to fall through the cracks
So let em eat jellybeans let em eat cake Let em eat shit, whatever it takes They can join the Air Force or join the Corps If they cant make it here anymore
So thats how it is, thats what we got If the president wants to admit it or not You can read it in the paper, read it on the wall Hear it on the wind if youre listening at all Get out of that limo, look us in the eye Call us on the cell phone tell us all why
In Dayton Ohio or Portland Maine Or a cotton gin out on the great high plains Thats done closed down along with the school And the hospital and the swimming pool
Dust devils dance in the noonday heat Theres rats in the alley and trash in the street Gang graffiti on a boxcar door We cant make it here anymore.