[Spoken Word Intro] Forty years watching the train wreck of the Ameri-can dream. Started April ninteen eighty one: boardrooms decided people were liabilities, not assets. "Synergy" means role stuffing: liquidating workers for a stock spike. Here is the bill we have to pay. [Verse 1: Rap] Born December nineteen seventy five, A Gen-X kid trying to survive In West Albuquerque where the baseline was alive Dated the shoe salesman's daughter from right there in town Her folks had laid their family anchor down Raised three kids on two honest wages in line Her mom a special ed aide, everything was fine "G - E brings good things to life" on the screen Then April '81 Neutron Jack took the crown Fired bottom ten percent, turned metrics upside down Compressed the roles, injected permanent fear I was sheltered in the military year after year Serving nine-ty five to twelve while the country decayed I-R-C-A passed in '86, labor costs reset and frayed NAFTA -'94 hollowed out the factory floor China W-T-O in 2001 locked the door De-coupled corporate profit from American sweat Left four generations trapped in unpayable debt. [Chorus Sung] They’re burning the house to keep the furnace warm! Trading sovereignty for a boardroom storm! The mills are cold, casino floors arise The Arsenal of Democracy is buried in lies! Can't ship a driving job to an overseas floor So you turn local asphalt to a sweatshop door! Bring back the one-to-one, pay a fair share Before the Wall Street castle leaves Main Street bare! [Verse 2: Rap] Back from combat with P -T-S-D in my head Five years scratching civilian dirt to keep fed First marriage shattered from the re-entry shock While corporate plantations ticked on the clock Twenty two to twenty four hauling lumber on the bed Looked at product tags, heart sank like lead Can-a-da and Mexico processing the logs - Duke City Lumber closed in '93 Leveled by gentrified dogs now it's Sawmill District lux-ury, casino rust on the steel Ronnie Milsap on the radio singing what was real White-collar cubicles trapped in infinite screens Management thinks laptops mean unlimited means Quiet quitting in the office, bone-deep trucking fatigue Wiped out yard loaders, forced a multi-job league Gave a two-dollar commission bump against inflation Nixed the overtime pay, legal theft across the nation! [Verse 3: Rap] Fled to highway maintenance, public service post Still skeleton crews from coast to coast Three to five men maintaining a thousand miles of road Snow, flood , chip-sealing, an impossible load Paid on twenty-nineteen baselines, one percent raise While three percent inflation darkens the days No funds because the tax base was cut by two-thirds Erasing industry while preaching empty buzzwords If we followed Henry Ford back in nineteen-fourteen Paid a solid wage to fuel the consumer machine Velocity of money would fund the public gate Staff the crews, change the generation's fate The Reagan tax curves can work if you don't slash the base Expand the jobs from the bottom to fund the place Cut the individual tax to single digits clean If you protect the baseline of the worker machine Instead they exploit undocumented labor supply Near-slave wage scales make the standard die Lincoln fought the Civil War to stop this abuse A rigged three-to-one game with an economic noose! [Spoken Outro] There we go—locked in the macro math and the Civil War baseline. True strength doesn't come from squeezing blood from a tired worker. Pride is respecting labor boundaries, outpacing inflation, and ensuring the men who build this country get a fair share. Welch’s pump-and-dump is finished. Time to take Main Street back. Thanks Six Sigma Boomers!
