Disparity By Design - Rise Against
All the way at the bottom of the barrels we cry out; so ashamed of our tears that we blame only ourselves. That's when they win. They keep us convinced to lift up our chins, these playing fields are level. We all have a chance, with that they dismiss. The fast lanes they rode, on which access depends on who you know, or where you came from. Whose daughter are you? Whose fortunate son?
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