Record Profits, Empty Streets

Clock in, clock out. Same story every day. They say the

market's booming, but my paycheck fades away. Mom and Pop are dying,

boarded windows on Main Street. But the suits are popping champagne like they never

missed a beat. They tell us tighten belts, while they loosen every law.

We're scraping for survival as they celebrate the fall. Record profits.

Every quarter, every year. While the workers drown in debt. And the truth

is never clear. Record profits. But the streets are running dry. Tell me how

the rich get richer, while the rest of us just try?