Bought, sold, traded, underwritten
Shipped overseas and hidden away
In brass cavities the size of a house
Secret tombs still holding the wealth
Passed down from long dead men
Stashed away from the public sphere
For fear of an uprising
Poverty breeds violence, right?
Damn, dirty beggars trying to catch a free ride
Off of someone else's inheritance
Flabbergasted fools glued to blue cloth seats
Pretend to understand the evils of socialism
And will scream it through the streets
As they patrol the neighborhoods
Protecting everyone from themselves
And pocketing that redistributed wealth
Hypocritical normalities cloaked in moral ambiguities
That closely resemble the emperor's new clothes
And the sidewalks are still buzzing
With the ignorant whispers
Breathing life into their own doom
As trillions is washed out to sea
And settles not beneath the ocean
But in the slimy pockets of overcoats
Hanging from the shoulders
Of all those we never stopped calling Master
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