Из альбома: Firestorm: Songs of the Third World War

We see you comin' in your Pontiac
Bulging briefcase sittin' like that
You lean back, smile, and look us down small,
An' boom out sweetly, "How're you all?"
But we know what you are; you're robbin' the poor

Close those funerals, no matter what
It goes through channels, you take a cut
You've got your hooks in all over town
The mayor just smiles 'cause our noise is kept down,
But we know what you do; you're robbin' the poor

(musical interlude)
What can we do, where can we go?
It takes much coin to learn how to know
Folks with cash can scratch where they itch,
So it's not that easy robbin' the rich
And there more profit, too, in robbin' the poor

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