Looking up to you with great hopes,
people climb those steps,
with their lives on the ropes,
crying they come, the people who wept.
To a statue of rock,
left all of their money, all the people who left.
You should be helping those people,
from the promises, you've kept.
Is it your benevolence or is it just a sweet theft?

It turned out to be a theft.
They died of poverty,
you killed them while they slept.
They died of hunger,
and on the roads, they crept.
They died of winter,
for they were all undressed.
They died of illness,
for their houses were unswept.
They all died because of you,
'cause you turned out to be inept.