We are rich architects from Bel Air
And old noir divas
We have mansions
We have cadillacs
And we kill for money like you
You can check our alibis
We are elegant and serene
We are respectable lawyers
And we bow to money like you
We are bored, we have wives and lovers
We have many friends
If you look closely, they are all worms
Which we are forced to eliminate
The ruthless logic of profit
Or who knows what makes us children
Of the Western Cultural Empire
Thank goodness that someone or something punishes
An investigator arrives, he deduces our soul
Our knowledge of pain illuminates
We are writers in crisis in Beverly Hills
And we are John Cassavetes
We are the dentists in Los Angeles
And we worship power like you
We prepare lobsters for those who come to breakfast
We prepare mysterious plans
As soon as we seize the opportunity
The logic ruthless of profit
Or who knows what makes us children
Of the Western Cultural Empire
Thank goodness someone
Or something punishes us
An investigator arrives
The soul deduces us
Our knowledge of pain illuminates.

ENVIAR CORREÇÕES