Elite Forces
The body politic and the soulless soul of Ayn Rand,
Mated and created the new-world-order superman,
And so Atlas shit and we just shrugged,
Looks like it's the hardware that needs to be debugged.
It's laissez-faire, If you're a billionaire,
It's Heaven cent,
If you can't pay the rent,
God knows what we're gonna do,
When the devil's due comes due.
From an ivory tower you can't see the belly of the beast,
We consider ourselves lucky to have a job washing dishes at the feast,
You own the world and everyone else just rents, So you can crush the weak at their own expense.
It's laissez-faire, If you're a billionaire,
It's Heaven cent,
If you can't pay the rent,
God knows what we're gonna do,
When the devil's due comes due.
Greed never sated by a trap always bated with ambition's seeing-eye dog,
You inhale pure oxygen and leave the rest choking on your smog,
Everyone else just counting on their luck,
While your profits come in hand over fist-fuck.
Uncle Sam props up his fallen,
Capitalistic scarecrows,
The barely walking now barely crawling,
Their life savings now deposed,
But when it comes to the milk and honey,
You will not find your hors d'oeuvre,
Banks full of useless money,
Is about all you people deserve.
Mated and created the new-world-order superman,
And so Atlas shit and we just shrugged,
Looks like it's the hardware that needs to be debugged.
It's laissez-faire, If you're a billionaire,
It's Heaven cent,
If you can't pay the rent,
God knows what we're gonna do,
When the devil's due comes due.
From an ivory tower you can't see the belly of the beast,
We consider ourselves lucky to have a job washing dishes at the feast,
You own the world and everyone else just rents, So you can crush the weak at their own expense.
It's laissez-faire, If you're a billionaire,
It's Heaven cent,
If you can't pay the rent,
God knows what we're gonna do,
When the devil's due comes due.
Greed never sated by a trap always bated with ambition's seeing-eye dog,
You inhale pure oxygen and leave the rest choking on your smog,
Everyone else just counting on their luck,
While your profits come in hand over fist-fuck.
Uncle Sam props up his fallen,
Capitalistic scarecrows,
The barely walking now barely crawling,
Their life savings now deposed,
But when it comes to the milk and honey,
You will not find your hors d'oeuvre,
Banks full of useless money,
Is about all you people deserve.
Credits
Writer(s): Michael Lee Mcguire
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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