Golden Rule

Red-faced flatulent men With perfectly coifed toupees Wipe their asses with c-notes And wag their puckered peckers at the sweaty masses While their collective gasses erode the ozone Wealth trickles down from their ruptured colostomy bags Soaking us below with their corruption While we bicker and wonder Where did we go wrong While we bicker and wonder Where did we go wrong While we bicker and wonder Where did we go wrong While we bicker and wonder Where did we go wrong Wolves in well-pressed wool Sharp-dressed shark-toothed men Selling us the fucking lie Of permanent prosperity Of security through endless war The sex and violence of the American dream And the value of the golden rule He who has the gold Makes the rules He who has the gold Makes the rules He who has the gold Makes the rules He who has the gold Makes the rules Cut the cords to your golden parachutes Cut the cords to your golden parachutes Cut the cords to your golden parachutes Cut the cords and jump Jump you fucking pigs Jump you fucking pigs Jump you fucking pigs Jump you fucking corporate pigs