The Ballade of Jimminy Beepisseed

Sold my soul and I bought from the Beepisseed
Cuz I didn't have time to walk down the street
Cuz I work eight thousand hours a week
I don't have time to do my laundry or to brush my teeth
And I dance to the march of the oncoming machines
I got my hand inside the pocket of these
Denim jeans
You think I work for you, but you work for me
Don't get it twisted, Jimminy Beepisseed

Someone reign in the long con of a man called
Beepisseed
Thought he'd take the wheel
Now he steers the whole ship into the sea
I went to see it myself
I met them in a parking lot
Of a building the size of a town
I asked and they said
It's fine I guess if you like Orwellian hellscapes
I gotta go so I'll have time to buy shoes
For my sport
Before I'm back to work, guess where I'll go
They looked at me and said

I'll sell my soul
And I'll buy it from the Beepisseed
I don't have eighty-seven dollars
For a pair of cleats
I don't have time to find some independent
Artisan chic
You know I got two-minutes-thirty-four seconds
Before the end of my break
Yeah even though I know I work for the devil himself
Let's be real for just a minute
So does everybody else
It might not look so high and mighty
But I'll do what I gotta do
And one day, Jimminy, you will too

Get your Beepisseed-ass-scum-fuckery
Up outta my home
You took enough to get us all out of this bullshit
Give us what you owe us
You owe us
You must really think that you deserve to take our place
You know that we can't all afford to live in outer space
We could really use some money here on Earth
What's this my pen's out, I need more pens
I can't spend all my money on these pens

I sold my soul and I bought from the Beepisseed
Cuz I didn't have time to walk down the street
Cuz I work eight thousand hours a week
I don't have time to do my laundry or to brush my teeth
And I dance to the march of the oncoming machines
I've got my hand inside my pocket in these
Denim jeans
You think I work for you, but you work for me
Don't get it twisted, Jimminy Beepisseed