The Weekly Hangdog

something left to save
by The Hangdogs

Wind cuts a path through dust and heat
Sends papers flyin down a dirty old street
City's lit up like a Christmas tree
But you pay for the treasure lies underneath
Everything's got a price in this old burg
And when your credit runs out, you pay in hurt
And a soul only costs what a body's worth
And the next one's just as cheap

The street corner preacher says just have faith
Says Jesus comin back to take us home someday
But he's running short on time and something left to save

Twenty floors up in a new high-rise
They hate their boss, plot his demise
They play their stocks and their PR lies
And they sip their whiskey sours
Down here we buy what they say we need
Play the Quick Pick 5 and the OTB
If we could trade in our debt for our dignity
We'd take back what was always ours

It says somewhere we're all made equal
but leastways in this town, it don't stay that way
There's your color, there's your schooling
there's your savoir faire and who you know and your credit rate