Well the rich get rich and the poor stay poor
And most of us grew up on the wrong side of that door
Print a little more plastic money whoo-ee we’re gonna get drunk tonight
Tomorrow morning will take care of itself we got time to get tight
Build a machine invent a need
Run the whole show on blindness and greed
Shovel out a little more useless product to pile in front of the cracks
And we laugh about the old pagan offerings with some rich asshole’s tag on our backs
We know nothing of the future we’ve forgotten what was past
And the flags of all our idealistic notions fly half mast
And they tell us that we’ll win it if we focus on the middle card
And there’s no place here for some poor visionary bard
Like me
Civil disobedience is duty not opinion
Either you’re a menace to the system or a minion
This one’s gonna end up in my F.B.I. File
I’m plotting a strange revelation all the while
There is no sure path before us
And the gray Cassandra chorus
sounds a little more descriptive every day
As we try to buy the trip to heaven
Smuggle in a little leaven
Never guessing at the price we’ll ultimately pay
Well it’s always been like this I guess
I’m almost relieved to be beaten I confess
You can read an explanation of the origin of these lyrics here
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