Legacy

December '61. My dad's wages light. Still on that salary We, all four, could sleep tight. Right now if you drank from That very same well, You'd need a run of luck To score a bed in a trick hotel. Is this the legacy of Too much for too few That I see? The kind of legacy that's Tossin' some good men To their knees. The 'great society's' Maligned concrete cage Sits dead and vacant now - At least it kept out rain. With all those corners cut The cracks grow wide and near. I heard some cash was saved But where it's gone ain't clear. Who goes down next I don't know. I don't know nothin' anymore. Tomorrow's legacy that's Layin' in state Awaits reprieve. I always thought that when a man goes down You do your best to pick him up. But how can the milk of kindness trickle down When it's syphoned off and cheats the cup?