We're all victims of the system, still we love to place the blame,
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We're running out of choices and there's no rules to the game.
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I'm getting tired of feeling this way,
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What can a single man do? what can he say?
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Every day you walk the edge of a knife,
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You're left with nothing at the end of your life.
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They've got their hands in your pocket,
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They'll take the clothes off your back......they'll stop you like a heart attack.
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We put people into power but we fight our wars alone,
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They take such good care of the rest of the world,
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But, what about the folks?
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At home, oh yeah! point the finger at the man you chose,
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He'll say he's sorry, but it's just the way it goes.
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He sits in judgement like a king on a throne,
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'till that november when he'll beg for a bone......brother, don't ignore the facts...!
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Hands In Your Pocket
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| Richard Marx |
