"All the way at the bottom, of the barrels we cry out, so ashamed of our tears that,
We blame only ourselves, that's when they win, they keep us convinced,
to lift up our chins, these playing fields are level, we all have a change,
With that they dismiss, the fast lanes they row, what it takes, it depends on who you know
Or where you came from, who's daughter are you? who's fortunate son?
We're told to stick out our thumbs, they feast from the linens, while we we settle the crumbs"
"If we just took a step back
A bigger picture we might view
Perhaps the man in the gutter
Is not so different from you"
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