The Haves Have Naught

Just look at that shopkeeper peddling his wares
Shouting his sales pitch but nobody cares
Don't you wonder what keeps him there day after day
Begging for gold as his hair turns to gray?
Blindly they're bounding a pace
Starving for mercy in a merciless place
Only a fool would make martyrs from heathens
And find them so lively when they're barely breathing, just barely breathing

Just look at that toymaker grinding his gears
Turning no profit, but he doesn't care
He keeps smiles on faces day after day
The children keep sadness and suffering at bay
Blissfully bounding a pace
Searching for mercy in a merciless place
Only a monster makes fodder from saints
And finds them so worthless when they're full of grace, so full of grace
But what better use of hookers and thieves
Than greasing the wheels of perfect machines that hum into life?
A harmony of industry
But what is the use of cutting them down
to smother, then choke the soul of our town?
I know there is another way
But what is so wrong with giving them purpose?
(Just how could leave them out, degrading them without doubt?)
A man like yourself could, bring worth to the worthless
(Bleeding them dry, maybe they'll die like you and I?)
Without the guidance of rulers and tyrants
(And none of your guidance, the hands of the tyrants)
These people will just tear themselves apart.
Just look at that charlatan steeped in deceit
A threat to the young, to the old, and the meek
Don't you wonder what made him so vicious, so sick?
So far out of balance, so cruel and so callous? So married to malice?