Legacy - The Gone Jackals

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.