Power, as ever, lies with those with so much wealth,

Never caring much for others, only about themselves,

Enough time spent on archaic notions like honour and loyalty,

As the status quo crushes the majority in a sea of apathy,

The lack of conscience where enterprise is free

 

Now nearly every protest singer is dead or on the fade,

In the face of the notion that seems to always have the last say,

Child-like fascination with the objects of their greed,

Eating eighty times the amount they’ll ever need,

Not sparing a penny for those who starve and bleed

 

And the corporate heads justify this with the amount they’ve made,

In the face of profit, humanitarian values are all but forbade,

That they don’t own the sweatshops they use, they think they’ve stopped the trail,

Nothing to be exposed that may interrupt the very next sale,

And by further undercutting prices, they watch and laugh as the dutiful try and fail

 

How can anyone claim that this is, in any way, right?

That such cold hearts of near and narrow sight,

Rule all within their sick, demented little game,

Take advantage of the blind, the impotent and lame,

To live in a country that allows this can’t help but fill me with shame.