Poemhead

Debts

These grey skies they speak of days long past

The sweet smell of pine and freshly cut grass

When a humble man could make good all his debts

To the church his soul and the bank his checks

 

It seems so long ago from where we stand

Broke and alone both woman and man

Threw away our souls to hold firm our checks

The bank’s now churches while church is a wreck

 

What hope can be found in these hopeless days

When no lovers or brothers ever seem to stay

Only cowards and thieves seem to rule these lands

And our only response is our head in our hands

 

We’ve no more backbone to hang our souls upon

We gave up our shovels and sold our farms

We praise the dollar above earth and soil

We’ve no more strength left for honest toil

 

Deceivers and schemers and all their wretch

May they burn in hell for the lives they wreck

They take in the fools and lie to the wise

They take all we’ve got as they pass us by

 

Broken and embittered both you and I

We gave them our land and they took our sky

With a smile and a handshake they promised us health

Now we’re sick in this squalor while they count their wealth

 

We’ve made our mistakes and paid in blood

Both our hearts wounded and caked in mud

We struggle to breath under all this weight

We pray for our debt and our own estates