Trees

In the corner, you work under duress A dead-end job, the measure of success Pays for soggy biscuits, tea, and bread Someone has to work or no one gets fed A race against the clock, no one can see Such and such is dead, rather him than me Well, do you think money grows on trees? A series of sins, you must express It'll be alright if you just confess Archaic views, traditions are best Now sit down and fucking sing with the rest Dig deep now, it's not for free You could be a good little devotee Well, do you think money grows on trees? The rich are rich, the poor are poor That's one thing of which everyone is sure It all boils down, to an Eaton mess Because daddy's rich friend couldn't handle the stress Give us more money, the banks decree And dads and religions and politics agree That money doesn't grow on trees! Work harder! Work faster!