The moon is hanging in the purple sky
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The baby's sleeping while its mother sighs
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Talking 'bout the rich folks
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Rich folks have the same jokes
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And they park in basic places.
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The priest is preaching from a shallow grave
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He counts his money, then he paints you saved
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Talking to the young folks
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Young folks share the same jokes
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But they meet in older places.
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So don't tell me about your success
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Nor your recipes for my happiness
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Smoke in bed
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I never could digest
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Those illusions you claim to have going.
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The sun is shining, as it's always done
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Coffin dust is the fate of everyone
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Talking 'bout the rich folks
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The poor create the rich hoax
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And only late breast-fed fools believe it.
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So don't tell me about your success
|
Nor your recipes for my happiness
|
Smoke in bed
|
I never could digest
|
Those illusions you claim to have going.
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-----------------
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Rich Folks Hoax
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| Rodriguez |
