Systems at thine throat.

Green back in a green house
I don't know where the door is to get there. 

Deliberate amnesia to it, that systematic pain of poverty. 

Just numb not comfortable. 

They have rules with fine letters, who owes who in the system. 

Who owns who in constant disarray. 

Not a number.

I'm a real man. 

Not a person, a client number in the computer land. 
 
Not just an inconvenience the elevator music down to systems hell. 

So many hands out, so many hands slapped. 

Not handed well in emotional stresses. 

Not taken well, but no one's addressing the system  shaking people to their core. 

Systems hands at thine  throat. 

If you are supported they think you have to tow the line, but it's no life line. 

The line goes dead and they hang up.
Another three hours wait, call delayed, high volume of people needing help or money, mostly daily bread. 

No doors to  your true calling, the system won't allow that. 

Thine has a system rigged up favour one indigenous race. 

Have harsh side  effects when the system cuts you off.

Getting cut off led a few I knew, to cut short their lives. 

Never have to be  begging the system for a crumb again. 

If it all worked properly ones place in the system would be clear. 

Not so many shut down, not so much fear. 

If only there was the right support out there, and less people at thine throat.

Tightening your belt and bending your obligations over.