Cardboard floors and cardboard walls, cardboard ceiling too No running water, no lights to turn off for you You're out on the street you got noting to eat
with your wife and your little girl too And night's getting colder like society's shoulder and there is nothing that you can do, and you ask: Who took the endings from the fairytales we were told? And who took the pride and dignity out of growing old? And when did the government quit lending a helping hand? And who took the promise from the promised land? You work long hours, never missed a day You believed in the american dream and like most of us you lived a little bit beyond your means When you heard the news about the factory's move a feather could have knocked you down And you wanted to cry, but you held it inside as you watched you're dying town. And some went south and some went west and some never went at all but most got hustled by the Washington shuffle that never returned your calls and you ask: Who took the endings from the fairytales we were told? And who took the pride and dignity out of growing old, and tell me: And when did the government quit lending a helping hand? And who took the promise from the promised land? For twenty-five years you forged the steel that built America and turned the wheels for twenty-five years and now they want you starting over like a twenty-five. So you went by the book and you played by the rules now you're out on the street like a pack of wolves and a cold wind blows from the north all the way down to Mexico, and you ask: Who took the endings from the fairytales that you heard? And who took the charity right our of the holy word, and tell me: when did the government quit lending a helping hand? And who took the promise from the promised land? Tell me who took the promise from the promised land?