December '61 my Dad's wages light

Still, on that salary, we all four could sleep tight

Right now if you drank from that very same well

You'd need a run of luck to score a bed in a trick hotel

Is this the legacy of too much for too few that I see?

The kind of legacy that's tossin' some good men to their knees

The "Great Society's" maligned concrete cage

Sits dead and vacant now - at least it kept out rain

With all those corners cut the cracks grow wide and near.

I heard some cash was saved but where it's gone ain't clear..

Who goes down next I don't know

I don't know nothin' anymore

Tomorrow's legacy that's layin' in state awaits reprieve

I always thought that when a man goes down you do your best to pick him up

But how can the milk of kindness trickle down when it's siphoned off and cheats the cup?