December `61. my Dad`s wages light. Still on that salary we, all four, could sleep tight. Right now if you drank from that very same well, you`d need a run of luck to score a bed in a trick hotel.
Is this the legacy of too much for too few that I see? The kind of legacy that`s tossin` some good men to their knees. The "Great Society`s" maligned concrete cage sits dead and vacant now - at least it kept out rain. With all those corners cut the cracks grow wide and near. I heard some cash was saved but where it`s gone ain`t clear..
Who goes down next I don`t know. I don`t know nothin` anymore. Tomorrow`s legacy that`s layin` in state awaits reprieve. I always thought that when a man goes down you do your best to pick him up. But how can the milk of kindness trickle down when it`s syphoned off and cheats the cup?
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