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Woe betide the doer of the deed |
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The gravy train, has thinned out in the rain |
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of Wall Street washing down the drain |
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And when you made off, I hope that you got paid off |
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That your money tastes of blood and your hands are stained |
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May white collar choke you, where the fires of hell stoke you |
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May your children never live in shame |
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Because we won't, forget |
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The curshing pain of our debts |
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Way you drove your country to the ground |
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Because we say woe betide the doer of the deed |
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You went along, you heard the siren song |
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You thought everyone would be rich when they're not poor |
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And you felt so brave, you said to gamble was to save |
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Then the banks took the money and closed the door |
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And when the bottom fell out, we heard you scream and shout |
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But it's daily that the suffering pays out |
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Because we won't, forget |
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The curshing pain of our debts |
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Way you drove your country to the ground |
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Because we say woe betide the doer of the deed |
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Your foreign wars, cut the purse strings of the poor |
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Your entitlement bloodies foreign shores |
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And when the heroes come home, you leave them all alone |
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You've no use for their sub-prime broken bones |
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Because we won't, forget |
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The curshing pain of our debts |
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Way you drove your country to the ground |
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Because we say woe betide the doer of the deed |
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Woe betide the doer of the deed |
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Woe betide the doer of the deed |
