The walls are cracking in this old town I know The house my parents built still stands, but paint’s starting to go I work my days, pay my taxes, do what I’ve been told But the worth of what I’m building’s just a story getting old (huh) And on the feed, the voices, for God’s sake Saying, “The mess we’re living is not of our own make” It’s the stranger at the border, with nothing but his greed Came to drink our share of water—what’s left to breathe And I’m so tired, so damn tired Of this thirst that won’t calm down (mmm) When the well runs dry, they teach a cruel old game To stand upon a dying man and blame him for the drought (drought) (oh!) While the man up in the tower keeps the water for his own And sells us all a story ’bout a war for bone (just bone) One morning on the site, a new group just showed up The boss says, “They’re cheaper,” and shrugs—“Hope you get the rough cut” Last night I saw a man on screen in a suit that cost my rent Talking ’bout the sacrifice that people like me haven’t spent So I see a threat where I should see a man ’Cause in this fight to keep a job, he’s just as scared as I am I straighten up my back and try to play my part His words feel heavy, pressing on my heart When the well runs dry, they teach a cruel old game To stand upon a dying man and blame him for the drought (drought) (ah!) While the man up in the tower keeps the water for his own And sells us all a story ’bout a war for bone (just bone) He stood right next to me, I saw his hands close up His palm told stories I could claim as my own (tsk) For one quick second, I saw what the news won’t show Same tired lines of worry, same hands, worn and slow Then I saw it clear—(oh-woah-oh)—it ain’t no ladder, it’s a wheel It crushes him, then me, with cold and grinding steel We ain’t fixing what’s broken, just circling ’round the pain ’Til the rich start the next wave, wash us like we’re not the same Now I see it clear! (SEE IT CLEAR!) They teach a cruel old game! To stand upon a dying man and blame him for the drought! (Drought) While the man up in the tower keeps the water for his own And sells us all a story ’bout a war for bone (just bone) (YEEAAAH!) We’re just footprints in the sand… Dragged out by the waves… While the tide belongs to them.
