It ain't right the poor soul on the park bench
Is told by the cop to move on,
He's littering the place with his presence
And the good folk all want him gone.
It's the law, but it ain't right.
It ain't right the young mother with babies
Can't keep them warm from the cold
While the man on the hill she voted for
Is lining his pockets with gold.
It's politics, but it ain't right.
It ain't right that the rich just get richer
And reap the rewards of their greed
While the poor wait for justice in heaven
When it's bread here on earth that they need.
That's just the way it is, but it ain't right.
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