New Homes For Idle Hands

New Homes For Idle Hands

Propagandhi
(album: Today´s Empires, Tomorrow´s Ashes)

Suburbs tremble again, fearing the have-nots at the window, collecting their fair share. Guns and alarms aren´t enough. They demand justice, and every criminal locked away, as well as any kid who might do something wrong. There´s a jail out of town with fences so high we won´t think about who´s inside. Neighbours are disappearing behind the bars. Kids are doing time for petty crimes. It don´t matter who they are. It don´t matter that they´re alive. A warehouse for victims of circumstance. Cops are rounding up slaves; workers that can´t complain or come late. A workforce behind bars. They´ll make gadgets, circuit boards or fix cars. It don´t matter who they are. It don´t matter that they´re alive. Crime pays, ask the bankers floating bonds to build cages for the inner-city´s "idle-handsi instead of schools. Factories with fences meet the prisons without walls. We shall have your skulls. They´ll kick you to the ground. You´ll find yourself employed again. On the inside.