The Filthy Rich

It’s the same old chicken
And the same old egg
The Bankers bank
And the Beggars beg

While History
Repeats itself
And Dreamers dream
Of a Commonwealth

And Thinkers think
Of a How and Why
Among the What and When and Where
A Who is Who of Nobody goes by…

The Filthy Rich (Who do they think they are?)
Don’t have a lot
In common with
The Dirt Poor
What are they good for?

The Filthy Rich (Who do they think they are?)
Don’t have a clue
Why people like
Thе Dirt Poor
Do what they do

On their hands and knees
Come rain or shinе
Heaven only knows
What they hope to find
As they dig their dirt-poor fingers
Into heaps of stinking waste
The misery of Opulence
Is equal to the squalor of good taste

(Who do they think they are? Who?)

In our heart of hearts
And our Monkey Brains
We know this Status Quo
Cannot be maintained

Without the Jealousy and Greed
Every one of us seems to need
Without the Selfishness and Hate
That we all find so innate

It’s the same old story
No one understands
So remember whoever you are
Whatever you do please don’t forget
To wash you hands…

(Who do they think they are? Who?)