The American Dream
I can’t believe
I’m slaving for
An electric eye
On the garage door,
For a billiard table
And a dozen cues
Which we had to have
But never use.
It’s hard to accept
I’m breaking my back
For a summer home
No more than a shack,
For three TVs,
And a new golf cart,
For a microwave and a Cuisinart.
I’m paying six stores
And three bank loans
So my kids can talk
On their private phones.
So the neighbors can say
What a beautiful lawn.
While I worry my way
Toward another dawn.
It started out as a
wonderful scheme,
Working for the
American dream.
But there’s a crack in the dream
And it’s getting wider
What’s so good about being
A good provider?