The Precariats

The Precariats

Hurried and scurried, worried and blamed

Sullied and defiled, demeaned and defamed

By those who use you, seeking fortune and fame

Wages waning, dignity denied

A slave in training, your spirit decried

No esteem, no worth

No decency, no rebirth

A place to live, not really a home

A hovel at best, you deserve only a bone

A family, impossible, no children to raise,

Society be damned, the economy is the craze

Your soul is crushed, your voices hushed,  

No reason to vote, there is no hope

Those who stole and sold your soul,

Care not if you are a human, partial or whole

The time has come, raise your fists,

Man the pitchforks, draw up the lists

ARISE PRECARIATS, revolution you must dare

 The future is yours, but only with a cold hard stare