We’ll Be Gone

By Stephen Thompson © 2012

We played by their rules, and now we’re busted,
We lost everything we have, to those we trusted.
I think that it’s time, for us to move on,
Turn out the lights, lock the door, and we’ll be gone.

The jobs in this town, have gone away,
There’s nothing left here, to make us stay.
To Mexico, to China, or to a robot,
Knowing who’s to blame doesn’t help a lot.

Don’t know how or why, this all happened,
Don’t own a stock, or bond, or an option.
I suppose I should be mad as hell, at someone,
But I pity the fools that think they’ve won.

They say that our house is, under water,
But I ain’t seen a drop of rain, all Summer.
Can’t fix it, can’t sell it, can’t afford to stay,
Feel bad about leaving our affairs this way.

So pack your bags, and load up the car,
Heard there’s work out west, not too far.
Things we can’t take, we’ll give to the shelter,
They need it worse than us, they’re all stuck here.