Still working on recording this one

Image: Howard Street, called “Skid Row,” the street of the unemployed in San Francisco, California U.S. Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information LC-DIG-fsa-8b31684

Lyrics:

“Liquidate, liquidate,” you money men say
And trust us that things’ll get better some day”
Sir when my dreams have all dried up and been blowed away
How long do you want me to wait?

“Trust Mr. Market,” you wise men opine
“Just stay the course and things’ll be fine”
When there’s a hundred men with me in this Bowery bread line
How long do you want us to wait?

First the factory cut hours, and then it went bust
Now the gates are encrusted with two years’ worth of rust
And we’re all out of money, hope, patience and trust—
We can hardly afford to wait

When you’ve been homeless and hungry and hopeless and cold
On account of the fat bill of goods you’ve been sold
And there’s 10 million workers for whom there’s no use
“Have faith in your betters” is a sorry excuse
No sir, the time for waitin’s well past

‘Cause when the poor and the idled demand what they’re owed
And all of you fat cats must reap what you’ve sowed
From the yachts off Nantucket to the end of Skid Road—
On that day we’ll see justice at last