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Who brought the bomb wrapped up in business cards |
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And stained with steak? |
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Who hires a maid to wash his money? |
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Who keeps politicians on the take? |
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Who puts outspoken third-worlders in jail |
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Just to shut them down? |
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Oh the lies vary from place to place but the truth is still the same, |
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Even in this town |
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Money junkies all over the world |
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Trample us on their way to the bank |
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They run in every race |
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WindegoThird-worlders see it first: |
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The dynamite, the dozers, the cancer and the acid rain |
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The corporate caterpillars come into our backyards |
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And turn the world to pocket change |
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Reservations are the nuclear frontline; |
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Uranium poisoning kills |
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We're starving in a handful of gluttons |
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We're drowning in their gravy spills |
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Their tongues are silver forks |
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There's a lack of wisdom, |
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You can hear it on their breath |
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WindegoIt's delicate confronting these priests of the golden bull |
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They preach from the pulpit of the bottom line |
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Their minds rustle with million dollar bills |
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You say Silver burns a hole in your pocket |
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And Gold burns a hole in your soul |
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Well, uranium burns a hole in forever |
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It just gets out of control |
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There was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile |
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He raised a crooked sixpence to hide a crooked style |
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He won a crooked vote and smiled a crooked smile |
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WindegoTheir tongues are silver forks |
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There's a lack of wisdom, |
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You can hear it on their breath |
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Windego |
