Hahhh… you “can’t find workers”?

No, you can’t find slaves.

And we don’t do chains here anymore…

…or do we?

They say nobody wants to work, nah, we just don’t wanna starve,

While your bonus buys a Bentley and you sip champagne at the bar.

Pockets deep like oil wells, but you drip us pennies,

While we’re breaking backs daily for your yachts and Hennys.

“Entry level” with a degree and ten years’ grind,

Still can’t pay the rent, but your profits climb.

You cut hours, cut staff, then demand the same sales,

And you wonder why morale’s in the coffin with nails.

Gold on your plates, dust in our hands,

You build your castles on stolen lands.

We make your world while you take our breath,

Call it “the market” — we call it death.

Can’t afford the healthcare, can’t afford the time,

Clock in sick just to keep from the breadline.

Your “family values” don’t reach the floor,

We’re just numbers in your spreadsheet war.

You talk “opportunity,” we hear “indentured,”

Every dollar you hoard is another life censured.

We’re done being cogs in your gilded machine,

‘Cause there’s nothing Free about this dream.

You don’t want workers.

You want worshippers.

Obedient little saints of starvation,

Praying for your scraps.

You hide behind charts, behind “market trends,”

While we’re pawning our lives just to make the rent.

Say the problem is “lazy” — nah, we’re awake,

We see the billion-dollar feast on your dinner plate.

We’re the hands that built your towers, your cars, your gold,

But you break those same hands just to keep your hold.

We’re done begging — this is our last demand:

Fair wage, fair life… or we take back the land.

Gold on your plates, dust in our hands,

We’re burning down your stolen lands.

We built your world, now watch it bend —

Greed eats itself, this is the end.