Between every other
Odd-numbered November

You tell us that we’re slaves
So you might as well be master

After all you gave your last slaves
Plenty of bread

Half put out our hands
And half just shake our heads

You call it greed when I give five
To a man I see is poor

You tell me I don’t care
You say it should be more

So you shake me down and take my cash
And give the guy just four

Everything you do with guns
You love me when you make your runs

But I ain’t dumb, I know
That after the show

You’ll tell me what to drive to where
And charge me just to get there

It’s for my good you know
Your conscience tells you so

You’re on your way to heaven
But the place you’ve made me live in

Is nothing short of hell
It’s nothing short of hell

There’s gotta be something
There’s gotta be something free

This place got kinda twisted
So much quicker than you’d think

You’d think we’d learn our lesson
After watching others sink

But inside the little Social Clubs
The kids are taught to trust and love

Anything but self
They put it on the shelf

They serf the wake they should be morning
And mourn the greatest gift of all

Instead of taking warning
Instead of taking warning

There’s gotta be something
There’s gotta be something free

When I sleep I seem to find it
I find it ‘cause I dream

I guess it’s time to find a way
To dream instead of waking

To take what’s for the taking
To see with eyes wide open

What I used to see while sleeping
The things I once was weeping

Are blessings for the reaping
Blessings for the reaping

It ain’t wrong to take some joy
In my own free will

You dance your righteous dance
I’ll gladly take a pass

And dream while I see
I really am still free