Disposable People

The glass is tall and the towers reach for heaven's eye
While at the base the weary souls just wonder why
They trade their sweat for pennies in a gilded cage
Another name written on a ledger's dusty page
You call it progress but I see the iron chain
A system built to harvest every drop of pain
The dirty work is done by those you won't acknowledge
While you sit high within your ivory tower of knowledge

We are the valuable slaves in a world of master's greed
Sown like the harvest but never given what we need
They hold the cures and they hide the keys within their hands
Building a kingdom on the shifting of the desert sands
Property or chattel in a cycle of the poor
Knocking on a golden but a forever bolted door

Inadequate the housing and the wages hit the floor
The more we give the more the masters hunger for some more
A relentless endeavor to enslave the less than few
To keep the power concentrated in a chosen group
You ignore the feelings of the ones you cast aside
No place for mercy and there is no place for them to hide
From the ruin and the cold of the concrete city street
While you hoard the riches and you never face defeat

We are the valuable slaves in a world of master's greed
Sown like the harvest but never given what we need
They hold the cures and they hide the keys within their hands
Building a kingdom on the shifting of the desert sands
Property or chattel in a cycle of the poor
Knocking on a golden but a forever bolted door

You have the power to end the hunger and the strife
Instead you choose to edify a hollowed out life
Heartless manipulation of the sick and of the dying
Behind the curtains while the common man is crying
A race of disposable people born to fuel the flame
But we are human beings and we all possess a name

We are the valuable slaves in a world of master's greed
Sown like the harvest but never given what we need
They hold the cures and they hide the keys within their hands
Building a kingdom on the shifting of the desert sands
Property or chattel in a cycle of the poor
Knocking on a golden but a forever bolted door

The cycle of the low wage and the pride
Open up the treasure that you're keeping deep inside
No more disposables in this land of the free
Only the ghosts of who we used to be
Before the greed took it all away

-Universal Mic © 2026