We were promised a trickle of silver
while billionaires swallowed the mint.
Instead a mighty river of advice
runs down on us, advice like an ocean of
corrosion from the faucets of Flint:
Don’t ask for paradise.
We’ll dribble out an extra dollar or two
over a few years, while we hike prices
and zero out your gains.
You can see a doctor for your pains
as long as we extract our profit
and empty your pockets
to pay for the prescription.
If you squawk enough
we might tinker with the system
just a bit, and then claim all the credit
for this landmark legislation.
We know how to run the show.
We have the experience.
Your leader is a dreamer
who’ll leave you to die in the wilderness.
We’ve heard the same hokum for ages.
Pharaoh probably promised to raise wages.
His press corps said, be patient
one of these days he’ll notice your plight
and issue an edict,
and if our ancestors had heeded their advice
we’d still be slaves in Egypt.