We're All Victims Of The System

Still We Love To Place The Blame

We're Running Out Of Choices

And There's No Rules To The Game

I'm Getting Tired Of Feeling This Way

What Can A Single Man Do, What Can He Say

Everyday You Walk The Edge Of A Knife

You're Left With Nothing At The End Of Your Life



Chorus:

They've Got Their Hands In Your Pocket

They;ll Take The Clothes Off Your Back

Hands In Your Pocket

They'll Stop You Like A Heart Attack



We Put People Into Power But We Fight Our Wars Alone

They Take Such Good Care Of The Rest Of The World

But What About The Folks At Home, Oh Yeah

Point The Finger At The Man You Chose

He'll Say He's Sorry But It's Just The Way It Goes

He Sits In Judgement Like A King On A Throne

'Till That November When He'll Beg For A Bone



Chorus:

They've Got Their Hands In Your Pocket

They'll Take The Clothes Off Your Back

Hands In Your Pocket

Brother, Don't Ignore The Facts



Everyday Of You Walk The Edge Of A Knife

You're Left With Nothing At The End Of Your Life

They've Got Their Hands In Your Pocket

They'll Take The Clothes Off Your Back

Hands In Your Pocket

They'll Stop You Like A Heart Attack