For Lunch, The Corporations Ate People. Supper? The Inc’s Ate People. Snacks? The Corps Ate People.

Praugh, praugh, praugh

Profit.

Can’t get enough of it.

Like a big damn pile of bravery medals

Sittin’ in your living room.

Medals taste bad even smothered in gravy.

And smell a little bit like doom.

Step back afore the beggar goes boom.

Mama gettin’ off her broom cause

Daddy takin’ back the livin’ room!

Thank you, friend.

Barry out.