In a brutal world endowed with reason Rumors and gossip pass for news As I fight for a freedom you call treason I can hear wage slaves singing the blues
I'd say that I'm out of practice But I don't believe hope is the answer With all that's now stacked against us I must concede, the Pope is a cancer
And love's a game for madmen and fools For society dames who follow the rules And money's a gas, good taste or bad When you're wearing a mask No one cares if you're sad
But I'm much too poor to be misunderstood I can't even afford a house in the hood So it isn't for gain and it isn't for greed When I labor in vain for the things that I need
