Mr. Money

When I see you walking, stalking down the street Handing out death to whoever you meet I hide my shadow, shake and drown in sweat of fear I lurk and run and pray you don't come near And I know that you'll stab me in the back 'Cause you work for Mr. Money Mr. Money I don't need the fame and I don't need the fortune I don't need the pain and I don't need the torture I don't want anything that has to to do with you I have met the enemy, and the enemy is you! And I know that you'll stab me in the back 'Cause you work for Mr. Money Mr. Money Mr. Money Mr. Money But how can you kill, the king of death? And how can you hurt, the prince of pain? And how can you ever even hope to stay dry Under Mr. Money's reign? Your swastika has now become a dollar sign Your Bible is now your check book You take them to the bank and bring them to their knees Make them pay their dues while they pay your fees And I know that you'll stab me in the back And I know that you'll stop me in my tracks And I know that you'll kill me to get back What you owe to Mister Money! Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money