If You're Shooting With The Left It Means The Right Side Is Working

I was born in the land of plenty
I was raised as a privileged child
This was once a great community
So they say, I don't know why

We built ships and automobiles
We made unions, guns and steel
Money talks in the angel's silence
Selling out once great ideals

Living in a ghost town
Feeling like a class clown
Running with the magpies
Walking like a crow
Never saw the factory
When it made out history
Now it's just a patch where the pennyroyal grows

Born with promise and chance of plenty
Walked that road in paramount shoes
Couldn't play the abacus melody
All I ever wanted was to be of use

One big chord of mocking birds
Cover the sky like a big f-word
Fame will get you heaps of treasure
Dedication is just a word