James McMurtry’s “We Can’t Make It Here Anymore” popped up on my iTunes shuffle.

Damn. Spot on.

Some have maxed out all their credit cards
Some are working two jobs and living in cars
Minimum wage won’t pay for a roof, won’t pay for a drink
If you gotta have proof just try it yourself Mr. CEO
See how far 5.15 an hour will go
Take a part time job at one of your stores
Bet you can’t make it here anymore

Should I hate a people for the shade of their skin
Or the shape of their eyes or the shape I’m in
Should I hate ’em for having our jobs today
No I hate the men sent the jobs away
I can see them all now, they haunt my dreams
All lily white and squeaky clean
They’ve never known want, they’ll never know need
Their shit don’t stink and their kids won’t bleed
Their kids won’t bleed in the dad’s little war
And we can’t make it here anymore

And “we can’t make it here anymore” cuts two ways – one, we’re not manufacturing here anymore, and two, we can’t make our economic ends meet.

Delivered by McMurtry in his flat, matter-of-fact monotone, it resonates even more.

This song is about a decade old, I’d guess, but it could have been recorded today.