Lower taxes for the wealthy
And the never-ending war
Can’t afford to fix the bridges
Never talk about the poor
Those fancy noble pundits
Talking on tv
All worried ‘bout decorum
Blah blah blah civility
It’s fully copacetic
Dropping 20 thousand bombs
If you do it with a smile
And you’re good at looking calm
Crooks and politicians
Keep on getting paid
Plundering our country
And calling it free trade
by Richard W. Bray
Like Bill and George
He wants them speaking fees
So it’s the One Percent
That he’s gotta please
They steal our homes
They poison our kids
And our politicians
Seek the highest bid
His words are so pretty
But his words ain’t free
He don’t fight for the people
He fights for TPP
It’s incredibly sad
But it ain’t strange
Hope and Change
Just means more of the same
by Richard W. Bray
I grew up in a country
Where an honest day’s toil
Could earn a man a castle
Where the working man was royal
He could send his kids to college
They could elevate their lot
Everybody pitched in
Everybody had a shot
Every day the working man
Is struggling to get by
On a smaller and smaller
Piece of the pie
Cuz sleazy politicians
And heartless corporations
Sold out the workers
And mortgaged off our nation
Every road that you drive
Every building that you see
Was made by working people
Like you and me
We need to stop trying
To build nations overseas
And start investing
In you and me
Every day the working man
Is struggling to get by
On a smaller and smaller
Piece of the pie
Cuz sleazy politicians
And heartless corporations
Sold out the workers
And mortgaged off our nation
by Richard W. Bray
we got people to the moon
atop a big ole rocket
we got a thousand songs
to fit inside your pocket
we got politicians
with perfect teeth and hair
we got flying robots
that can kill you anywhere
we got favors for the rich folks
and prison for the poor
we got rampant unemployment
and never-ending war
we got a bunch of cameras
watching everything we do
we got a Constitution
but it don’t cover you
by Richard W. Bray
Do you know me?
I’m down with TPP
Now we’re gonna
Frack away our legacy
Poisoning the earth
And the economy
Do you know me?
I’m down with TPP
Fast-track it past
The people in secrecy
Low wages worldwide
Is what we’re gonna see
Do you know me?
I’m down with TPP
Bargaining away
Our national sovereignty
To a buncha corporations
That hired me
by Richard W. Bray
The thieves in charge
Just dangle some cash
And dirty politicians
Kiss a whole lotta ass
The game is rigged
In the USA
The American Dream’s
Been dealt away
Crooks and traitors
Keep getting paid
Send jobs overseas
And call it free trade
The game is rigged
In the USA
The American Dream’s
Been dealt away
Ain’t got no money
To fix our schools
We’re going down hard
Like a punch-drunk fool
The game is rigged
In the USA
The American Dream’s
Been dealt away
by Richard W. Bray
We’ll spend the people’s money as we please
Entitled to an endless building boom
Living in the District of Disease
We’ll charge a tariff every time you sneeze
We’ll tax your rest when you are in your tomb
We’ll spend the people’s money as we please
It’s still your country we just hold the keys
It’s still your cloth, but we control the loom
Living in the District of Disease
Be sure to pay your taxes and your fees
We need it to enlarge the endless room
We’ll spend the people’s money as we please
We won’t stop until you’re on your knees
Our project calls for universal doom
Living in the District of Disease
We squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze
And everybody else can suck on fumes
We’ll spend the people’s money as we please
Living in the District of Disease
Richard W. Bray
I love the working man
And I’d walk your picket line
But my wingtips give me bunions
And my sneakers need a shine
And it’s so darn hot
When I’m out in the sunny
You know I feel your pain
But I love that dirtymoney
Free trade ain’t so free
When we ship your job away
But those fat cats with their wallets
Will remember me someday
Disappearin’ factory jobs
Ain’t no kind of funny
You know I feel your pain
But I love that dirtymoney
All my favorite people
Are really corporations
Corporations don’t get sick
Or ask me for vacations
Politicians crave cash
Like a bear loves him some honey
You know I feel your pain
But I need that dirtymoney
by Richard W. Bray
