**I can't remember who did this, but it was one fo the old tabs on here***


Capo 5

Intro:
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There's a Vietnam Vet with a cardboard sign sitting there by the left turn line
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Flag on the wheelchair flapping in the breeze, one leg missing and both hands free
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No one's paying much mind to him, the V.A. budget's just stretched so thin
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And there's more comin' home from the Mideast war, we can't make it here anymore

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And that big ol' building was the textile mill, it fed our kids and it paid our bills
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But they turned us out and they closed the doors, we can't make it here anymore

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See those pallets piled up on the loading dock, they're just gonna set there till they rot
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'Cause there's nothing to ship, nothing to pack, just busted concrete and rusted tracks
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Empty storefronts around the square, there's a needle in the gutter and glass everywhere
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You don't come down here 'less you're looking to score, we can't make it here anymore

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The bar's still open but man it's slow, the tip jar's light and the register's low
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The bartender don't have much to say, the regular crowd gets thinner each day
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Some have maxed out all their credit cards, some are working two jobs and living in cars
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Minimum wage don't pay for a roof, don't pay for a drink, if you gotta have proof 
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Just try it yourself Mr. CEO See how far 5.15 an hour will go
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Take a part time job at one of your stores I bet you can't make it here anymore


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And there's a high school girl with a bourgeois dream, just like the pictures in the magazine
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She found on the floor of the Laundromat, a woman with kids can forget all that
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If she comes up pregnant what'll she do, forget the career, forget about school
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Can she live on faith? live on hope, high on Jesus or hooked on dope
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When it's way too late to just say no, you can't make it here anymore


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Now I'm stocking shirts in the Wal-Mart store just like the ones we made before
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'Cept this one came from Singapore, I guess we can't make it here anymore

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Should I hate a people for the shade of their skin or the shape of their eyes or the shape I'm in
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Should I hate 'em for having our jobs today, no I hate the men sent the jobs away
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I can see them all now, they haunt my dreams, all lily white and squeaky clean
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They've never known want, they'll never know need, their s**t don't stink and their kids won't bleed
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Their kids won't bleed in the damn little war and we can't make it here anymore


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Will work for food, will die for oil, will kill for power and to us the spoils
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The billionaires get to pay less tax, the working poor get to fall through the cracks
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Let 'em eat jellybeans, let 'em eat cake, let 'em eat s**t, whatever it takes
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They can join the Air Force, or join the Corps if they can't make it here anymore


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And that's how it is, that's what we got if the president wants to admit it or not
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You can read it in the paper, read it on the wall, hear it on the wind, if you're listening at all
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Get out of that limo, look us in the eye, call us on the cell phone, tell us all why
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In Dayton, Ohio or Portland, Maine or a cotton gin out on the great high plains
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That's done closed down along with the school and the hospital and the swimming pool
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Dust devils dance in the noonday heat, there's rats in the alley and trash in the street
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Gang graffiti on a boxcar door, we can't make it here anymore


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