It’s a code red! category 9 emergency,
Its a real bad time to try and disagree,
With world leaders stomping on bottom feeders,
causing reasons for treason, causing catastrophes.

The little man, has no chance, to make a stand for change,
Got a message but the signal is way out of range.

Millions of civilians speak
the governments are weak
giving fake ass speeches
to win headline of the week.

Now the fat-cat’s out of the bag
Gags lifted and sold to the daily rag    

So they backtrack from the flack by throwing money from their gucci manbags

While the poor man’s still hanging out dry
wondering why he can’t get by with no end in sight
Top dogs catch their mile-high flights, while the mongrels catch the low-life lice.

It’s a sad sad state of affairs, the cupboards are bare, old Mrs Hubbard can’t survive on welfare,
No one will hire, situation is dire,
The debt, bills, utilities are always getting higher.

So come what may, the storm we shall weather
we’ll have our day, and they’ll have theirs but who will fair better?

Only the powers that be will eventually tell
Who will be laughing in heaven
And who will be crying in hell.