When Rhetoric Dies

We raise the flags and statues to our mission
We've spoken out in slogans and in campaigns
Talked and talked on almost every issue
Where oppression of the masses is the constant theme

But what does this mean to a little town in Iowa
Where the jobs have gone downstream down south and out?
Where their fingers used to work to the bone all day
Profits rise and fall and starvation is a game

Where is the food that used to cover their table?
Where is the sense of pride at the end of the day to the face
Of a thriving corporation, what could a dying family possibly say
On the face of every American worker

Is the constant fear that their job won't remain
As the C.E.O. is planning his vacation
To kill or be killed is the nature of the beast
Stand in line take a number you sell your soul

Then watch it crumble into a pile of rubble that used to be
Your job, your life, your family's daily bread dry
And stale malnourished kids
The house is sold for a degrading bid
Do we continue to talk or do we take a hammer to their chains