All our dreams are sold
To the person with most power
Like eagles they soar and scour
And pounce on every hope that’s our
You might think a fight would be fought
Against a woe that is so old
A war braved by our troops so bold
Alas, on who the ones with power have hold
So what the point of all this trouble
If at the end we all just live in a bubble?
Where instead of riding towards our faith
We minimize losses and our profits we double.