I sit here and wonder
If the kids in Uganda,
Shed a tear when they hear of my plight
I sometimes work Sundays,
Which I hate, but it's well paid.
I can't help that I'm rich and I'm white.

This screen gives me headaches
We are playing for high stakes
I stare out the window and sigh
I've sacrificed leisure
For a day filled with pressure
But probably no one will die

I'm burdened with tax
Hardly time to relax,
My credit cards pushed to the brink
So spare me a thought
When your crops fail in drought
As you search for clean water to drink