We don’t take care of our own

We take care of our own?

I been knocking on the door that holds the throne I been looking for the map that leads me home I been stumbling on good hearts turned to stone The road of good intentions has gone dry as a bone We take care of our own We take care of our own Wherever this flag’s flown We take care of our own

From Chicago to New Orleans From the muscle to the bone From the shotgun shack to the Superdome There ain’t no help, the cavalry stayed home There ain’t no one hearing the bugle blowin’ We take care of our own We take care of our own Wherever this flag’s flown We take care of our own

Where’re the eyes, the eyes with the will to see Where’re the hearts that run over with mercy Where’s the love that has not forsaken me Where’s the work that set my hands, my soul free Where’s the spirit that’ll reign, reign over me Where’s the promise from sea to the shining sea Where’s the promise from sea to the shining sea Wherever this flag is flown Wherever this flag is flown Wherever this flag is flown

We take care of our own We take care of our own Wherever this flag’s flown We take care of our own We take care of our own We take care of our own Wherever this flag’s flownWe take care of our own

The words of the lead track in Bruce Springsteen’s new album Wrecking Ball sums it up.  The road of good intentions has gone as dry as stone (Obama?).  From the shotgun shack to the Superdome, there ain’t no help, the cavalry stayed at home (for workers, not for bankers).  Where’s the work that set my hands, my soul free? (the jobs are gone).  Where’s the promise from sea to the shining sea (The American dream is no longer).