The Hopes of the American Middle-Class

Verse 1

They wake in the morning, go to the deck that faces

The willow they planted thirty years ago.

They wonder about offspring in far away places.

They wanted the best for them, but the Lord only knows.

Verse 2

They clear a small mess and sit on the porch swing,

Sip their coffee slowly, thinking of the days that they’ve had.

They watch a small blackbird with red spots on its wing.

Their hopes had been grand once. Life had not been bad.

Chorus

These are the hopes of the American middle-class,

More than their parents had, but less than their brood.

For most, inflation overtook them. The good times didn’t last.

Too often they feel that they have been screwed.

Verse 3

They go to their garage, and look at its doorway,

Broken and sticking from time’s misguided hand.

They tinker with the hinges, and contend with the decay,

And wonder if another problem they could even stand.

Verse 4

They find the old dressser, which her mom had left her,

The varnish is peeling, the handles are gone.

The golf cart he cherished sits with a cobweb cover.

Life still continues, bit not the hopes they had drawn.

Chorus

These are the hopes of the American middle-class,

More than their parents had, but less than their brood.

For most, inflation overtook them. The good times didn’t last.

Too often they feel that they have been screwed.