[Verse 1]
They tell us money buys freedom, but I’ve seen the reverse,
Paper chains wrap tight, turn blessings to curse.
Every paycheck’s a prison, every dollar’s a lie,
You chase it your whole life and still barely get by.
I watched my uncle slave years in a factory line,
Hands cracked, back bent, spine broke with time.
Retired with nothing but debt and disease,
While CEOs sip scotch on Caribbean seas.
Credit cards dangle like bait on a hook,
Sign here, swipe there, your soul’s in their book.
They build prisons of paper that we can’t escape,
Dress it up in interest rates, taxes, red tape.
[Chorus]
Paper chains, we wear them proud,
Shackled quiet in the land of loud.
We chase, we grind, we bleed, we strain,
Living and dying in paper chains.
[Verse 2]
I’ve seen mothers stretch bills like elastic bands,
Trading gas for groceries, praying it stands.
I’ve seen fathers pawn rings, sell memories cheap,
Just to buy a few meals, just to try to keep.
Politicians promise freedom, but they auction our rights,
Bankers write laws in the d**d of the night.
The poor feed the rich, it’s the same old song,
And we clap for the chorus while they string us along.
America’s a dealer with a suit and a smile,
Selling dreams in installments, one mile at a time.
But when the bill comes due, the mask peels away,
And the truth is revealed in the cold light of day.
[Chorus]
Paper chains, we wear them proud,
Shackled quiet in the land of loud.
We chase, we grind, we bleed, we strain,
Living and dying in paper chains.
[Verse 3]
I’ve seen preachers hold sermons with a hand in the plate,
Seen bankers sign papers that decide my fate.
They call it freedom, but it feels like debt,
They sell us the dream and we pay in regret.
The streets don’t care if you’re broke or rich,
But the paper decides who gets buried in which ditch.
The chains ain’t iron, they’re checks and loans,
Shackles printed on government forms.
But even in chains, some rise above,
Break free from the paper, find strength in love.
They can lock our wallets, they can tax our skin,
But the soul fights hard where the spirit begins.
[Bridge]
So burn the paper, let the chains fall down,
Take back the silence, take back the sound.
We’re more than the numbers they stamp on our names,
We’re fire, we’re b***d, not their paper chains.
[Chorus]
Paper chains, we wear them proud,
Shackled quiet in the land of loud.
We chase, we grind, we bleed, we strain,
But one day we’ll break these paper chains