Woorden: No-Cash. Run Your Pockets. The Lucky Few.

sprouted from a racist seed, the white men stole the land they need
to renovate a state of hate of greed, and call it something great
so every fall they give you thanx, for genocide of natives by the ranks
now you can find fast food in everytown, McDonalds, Wendy's, Taco Bell
and as free trade kills domestic jobs, they blame minorities for all their probs
they lock 'em up for their enjoyment, say they're the cause of unemployment
although they say that we're all free, it never felt that way to me
as you sit back and watch us die, i cant help but asking "why?"

crooked cops on every block, and racist courts to lock you up
a judicial system so corrupt, if yer not white you are a criminal
educated by the biased man, the kids to dumb to take a stand
faith in dreams that always die, but nightmares hold the upper hand
it snowballs into worthless pawns, multiplying, buying. on and on
slaving for that weekly wage, but in the end guess who gets paid?
although they say that we're all free, it never felt that way to me
as you sit back and watch us die, i can't help asking, "why?"