In the first verse, Oliver Anthony immediately sets the tone for the song, reflecting on the harsh realities of life for many working-class people. “I’ve been sellin’ my soul, workin’ all day” captures a sense of exhaustion, as if life is a transaction where personal value is sacrificed for survival.
The line “Overtime hours for bullshit pay” deepens this sentiment, expressing disillusionment with the unfairness of hard work that doesn’t pay off. The lyric “So I can sit out here and waste my life away” paints a picture of futility, of a life spent chasing after something unattainable, and yet, it’s all part of the routine. These lines are a sharp critique of modern labor, where the promise of a better future often falls short.
As Anthony moves into the next line, “Drag back home and drown my troubles away,” he hints at the coping mechanisms many use to handle their frustration, the numbness of retreating into distractions—be it drinking, mindless TV, or just the dull monotony of everyday life. It’s a cry of despair, a resignation to a life that feels out of control and unchanging. The words are simple, yet they cut deep, making us feel the weight of his daily struggle.
The pre-chorus opens with a stark observation: “It’s a damn shame what the world’s gotten to.” There’s a sense of regret here, a feeling that the world, or at least the country, has gone off course. Anthony seems to be looking around at the growing inequality and frustration, pointing a finger at both the broader system and the people who are most affected.
“For people like me and people like you” creates a bond between the listener and the singer, placing the blame on those in power who have led to such discontent. It’s a shared grievance, and it rings with authenticity. Anthony doesn’t just sing about his own struggles—he speaks for a collective experience.
The line “Wish I could just wake up and it not be true” feels like a desperate plea. It’s the wishful thinking of someone caught in a system that’s broken, but it’s also the sad realization that the truth is undeniable. “But it is, oh, it is” adds weight to this acceptance. There’s no escaping the reality he faces; it’s a tough pill to swallow, but one that Anthony is confronting head-on.
When the chorus hits, “Livin’ in the new world / With an old soul,” the contrast between the rapid pace of change and the timeless, enduring nature of human struggle is stark. The “new world” refers to modern society, with its technological advances, yet the narrator feels alienated, as though he belongs to a different time. This is a powerful reflection on the disconnect many feel as society moves forward, leaving behind those who don’t fit into the mold.
The phrase “These rich men north of Richmond” is likely a reference to the political elite, those in power far removed from the everyday struggles of the working class. The image of “rich men” is paired with the geographical reference to Richmond, suggesting a specific region, but also a metaphorical divide between the wealthy decision-makers and the people they affect.
The line “Lord knows they all just wanna have total control” encapsulates the sentiment of frustration and helplessness—the powerful seem intent on keeping it that way, exerting influence over people’s lives in ways that feel suffocating and manipulative.
As the chorus continues, “Wanna know what you think, wanna know what you do,” Anthony exposes the intrusive nature of power. It’s not just about wealth—it’s about control over every aspect of life. The line “And they don’t think you know, but I know that you do” speaks to the awareness of the people. The working class sees through the façade, understands the intentions of those in charge, and yet, they’re powerless to change things. It’s an unsettling truth, one that leaves us questioning how much control we truly have over our own lives.
The line “’Cause your dollar ain’t shit and it’s taxed to no end” brings us back to the harsh financial reality. Wages feel meaningless when taxes eat away at them, and the cost of living continues to rise. It’s an indictment of a system that doesn’t value hard work or the people who power the economy. This frustration is palpable, and the anger behind it is clear. The cycle seems never-ending, with the “rich men north of Richmond” at the top, benefiting from the labor of those who have nothing left to give.
The second verse shifts focus slightly, calling out the priorities of politicians: “I wish politicians would look out for miners / And not just minors on an island somewhere.” The contrast between the needs of everyday workers and the attention given to the elite highlights the disconnect between those in power and the people who actually build the nation.
It’s a biting critique of the political establishment, suggesting that their priorities are misplaced, focusing on the wrong issues while ignoring the real struggles people face.
The line “Lord, we got folks in the street, ain’t got nothin’ to eat” sharpens this critique, bringing the issue of poverty to the forefront. It’s a stark image, one that starkly contrasts with the lives of the rich. The addition of “And the obese milkin’ welfare” further highlights the divisive rhetoric surrounding government assistance. Anthony calls attention to the inequalities that exist within the welfare system, pointing out the hypocrisy of a system that allows some to profit while others suffer.
The singer paints an image of societal disparity that cuts through layers of systemic problems. “Well, God, if you’re five-foot-three and you’re three-hundred pounds,” he exclaims, making a bold statement that speaks to the inefficiencies in how the system appears to favor the unworthy. The line’s bluntness may initially seem offensive, but it’s a critique of entitlement, where people of all sizes and needs seem to benefit from a welfare system that, in the singer’s eyes, overlooks real issues like economic hardship.
He then takes it a step further by calling out the abuse of resources: “Taxes ought not to pay for your bags of Fudge Rounds.” This reference adds a sense of irony and absurdity, as if society is supporting personal choices that do not align with the hardworking taxpayer’s struggle. There’s a sting here, as the speaker feels that his hard-earned money is being misdirected toward indulgences, rather than being used to improve conditions for those truly in need.
In the next line, “Young men are puttin’ themselves six feet in the ground,” Oliver Anthony brings the conversation to a darker, more tragic place. This line is not just about a literal loss of life, but about the mental and emotional toll that the working class faces. There’s a sense of desperation in the air—young people are being ground down by a system that offers little to no hope, and the weight of this crushing reality leads to fatal consequences. It’s a mournful lament for the lost potential of youth, the victims of a system that pushes them into dire straits without offering a way out.
The following phrase, “Cause all this damn country does is keep on kickin’ them down,” further amplifies the sense of helplessness. It’s an exasperated declaration about how life for many seems like a never-ending struggle, where no matter how hard you work, no matter how much effort you put in, the country keeps pushing you back. This cycle, it seems, is inescapable—there’s no upward mobility or relief.
When we reach the Pre-Chorus, there’s a sense of resignation that creeps in. The singer repeats the same lines from earlier, emphasizing how disappointed he is with the world and its injustices. The repetition of “it’s a damn shame” is a call for empathy. It’s clear the singer feels trapped by the state of the world, and in these lines, there’s a hint of nostalgia, wishing for a time when things were simpler or fairer.
The chorus then brings us back to the “rich men north of Richmond,” a phrase that has become a symbol of elitism and control. “Lord knows they all just wanna have total control,” the lyrics declare, pointing directly to those in power—figures who seem disconnected from the struggles of everyday people. The desire for control is palpable, and it suggests that those in positions of power aren’t just passively influencing society—they’re actively shaping it to suit their own needs.
The next line, “Wanna know what you think, wanna know what you do,” speaks to the ever-watchful nature of these “rich men.” The idea that they are not only controlling the economy but also monitoring personal behavior brings to mind the idea of surveillance and manipulation. It’s as if nothing is private anymore, and those in power want to hold all the strings, dictating not just what people can do but even what they think.
Yet, there’s a twist in the narrative when the singer acknowledges, “And they don’t think you know, but I know that you do.” This line suggests an awareness—perhaps even a quiet rebellion—where the singer is calling out the powerful for underestimating the people. It’s a line full of knowing defiance. While the rich men think they have control, the people see through it. They know what’s happening, and they understand the game.
“Cause your dollar ain’t shit and it’s taxed to no end,” comes next, and it’s another shot at the financial system. Here, the singer is critiquing the ever-increasing tax burdens that seem to fall on the shoulders of the working class while the wealthy continue to profit. The feeling of powerlessness is reinforced: the dollar that the average person works so hard for is rendered useless by inflation, excessive taxation, and a system that seemingly makes it harder for them to get ahead.
The chorus repeats, reinforcing the message of societal disparity and the unyielding control of the wealthy over the lives of everyday people. There’s a sense of anger and frustration in these lines, an appeal for justice that seems to go unanswered. And yet, as the song winds down, there’s an underlying sense of solidarity. Though the working class is struggling, there’s an awareness that they are not alone in their fight. Anthony’s words are a cry for recognition, for the acknowledgment of their pain, and a call for change.