If you are lacking capital,
You won't show on the map at all,

You wont show on radar as little green blips,
If your bank account can't furnish means for a tip,
In a Washington  lobby, to fund a campaign, so
Now the youth have a future, in sutures and maimed,

By a financial beast, that just cannot be tamed, and
It's fed by the folks who are riggin' the game,
A small, opulent group of the fiscal insane,
The ones who observe them have given them names,

They're the "oligarchs," they're the "robber barons"
They're the "plutocrats," and they don't like sharin'
You can speak of reform, but they'll tell you to spare 'em, as
You watch, in bewilderment, grimaced and glarin,' as

They profit off health care, off oil stocks, and banks, and
Control public discourse, with PR  think tanks, cause
They own all the media, feedin ya lies, that
Are dressed up as facts,  in a clever  disguise, so

At propaganda, "take a proper gander," then
Stand and unite, as change demanders!