Pissing and moaning, sighing and groaning
We sit here and cry in our beer.
Why me? Ask we, to the man in the sky
And to all most willing to hear.
Our toys they are many, our food it is plenty
Yet we buckle in woeful depression.
As we think of lost gold and bonus untold
In this last goddamned recession!
But thanks be to our name we have lost not the game
As our House puppet friends will save us.
The presses will run as they steal from our son
But our asses will shine from the gift that they gave us.
Next time we’ve learned to be careful
And not overboard our greed
We’ll steal just the same (of course) but we must change our name
And adapt to the new ‘social’ breed
We’ll start a foundation and give to the needy
We’ll stop all the shit that made us look greedy
A full 10% we will give to the poor, of that we can assure
The 90 that’s left? Expenses not theft
And of course as an onus, the large Christmas bonus.