Cashflow projections, drift through the ether
Big crowds are chanting, and headlines are clear
Nothing is happening, praise to st. Peter
Enjoy this happy-meal, please have no fear
When all your numbers go from black to red
Temptations of salvation in your head
They push you down and when you fail to rise
Profiteer on your demise
Nothing is sacred, not even street cred
Doctors and lawyers will be living in slums
Tables will turn, and our prophet says
That all their CEOs will live and die as bums

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