We Can't Make It Here Any More

World Class Rock
KFOG Radio, 2006
Corporate Country Sucks
Chicago TV Show, 2006
Live with some
footage, 2009
Slide show

Slide show
Slide show
128 kbps
44 kHz

There's a Vietnam vet with a cardboard sign
Sittin' there by the left turn line.
A flag on the wheelchair flappin' in the breeze,
One leg missin', both hands free.
No one's payin' much mind to him,
The V.A. budget's just stretched so thin
And there's more comin' home from the Mideast war:
We can't make it here any more.

That big ol' buildin' was a textile mill,
It fed our kids and it paid our bills.
But they turned us out and they closed the doors:
We can't make it here any more.

You see those pallets piled up on the loadin' dock,
They're just gonna sit there, till they rot,
'cause there's nothin' to ship, nothin' to pack,
Just busted concrete and rusted tracks.
Empty storefronts around the square,
There's a needle in the gutter and glass everywhere.
You don't come down here, 'less you're lookin' to score:
We can't make it here any more.

The bar's still open, but man, it's slow!
The tip jar's light an' the register's low.
The bartender don't have much to say,
The regular crowd gets thinner each day.

Some have maxed out all their credit cards,
Some are workin' two jobs and livin' in cars.
Minimum wage won't pay for a roof, won't pay for a drink.
If you gotta have proof, just try it yourself, Mr. CEO!
See, how far 5.15 an hour'll go!
Take a part time job at one of your stores!
I bet, you can't make it here any more.

There's a high school girl with a bourgeois dream,
Just like the pictures in the magazine,
She found on the floor of the laundromat,
A woman with kids can forget all that.
If she comes up pregnant, what'll she do?
Forget the career an' forget about school!
Can she live on faith, live on hope,
High on Jesus or hooked on dope?
When it's way too late to just say no,
You can't make it here any more.

Now I'm stockin' shirts in a Walmart store,
Just like the ones, we made before,
'cept this one came from Singapore:
I guess, we can't make it here any more.

Should I hate a people for the shade o' their skin
Or the shape o' their eyes or the shape, I'm in?
Should I hate 'em for havin' our jobs today?
No, I hate the men, (who) sent the jobs away.
I can see 'em all now, they haunt my dreams,
All lily white an' squeaky clean.
They've never known want, they'll never know need,
Their sh!t don't stink and their kids won't bleed.
Their kids won't bleed in their damn little war
And we can't make it here any more.

We'll work for food, we'll die for oil,
We'll kill for power and to us the spoils.
The billionaires get to pay less tax,
The workin' poor get to fall through the cracks.
So let 'em eat jellybeans, let 'em eat cake,
Let 'em eat sh!t or whatever it takes!
They can join the Air Force or join the Corps,
If they can't make it here any more.

So that's how it is, that's, what we got,
If the president wants to admit it or not.
You can read it in the paper, read it on the wall,
Hear it on the wind, if you're listenin' at all.
Get outta that limo, look us in the eye!
Call us on the cell phone, tell us all, why!

In Dayton, Ohio or Portland, Maine
Or a cotton gin out on the great high plains
This town closed down along with the school
And the hospital and the swimmin' pool.
Dust devils dance in the noonday heat,
There's rats in the alley an' trash in the street,
Gang graffiti on a boxcar door:
We can't make it here any more.