Neoliberalism’s Death Grip or a New Deal Revival
Neoliberalism’s death grip tight, Or a New Deal rising in the night. Will we bow, or will we fight? The future’s calling, burn the light.
Verse 1
Forty years of Reagan’s game,
The middle class forgot its name.
Unions broken, wages bled,
Dreams of millions left for dead.
The billionaires keep stacking gold,
While working hands are bought and sold.
But now we stand, the choice is clear,
Do we fight or disappear?
