(Circuit Breaker)

You read somewhere that the rich get richer and richer
and sit on the yachts with staff in the kitchen
you apply for the staff and surprised by your inbox
you made the cut as a waiter to clean for the richest.

Buy the gear, take a ride, kick back on the boat
where you’re treated like a spy with a knife at their throat
the world keeps spinning as sparks fly down wires
but you're sick of this prison, where you lie ’til you’re tired.

Bottle up and float out to ocean, the back of your mind
is still hopelessly broken, one day you snap the wrong way
while this tax dodging sociopath sits laughing and lolling
the sun hides before him, you take the tethering rope;

snapped, ill, broken and bitten you rise to the bait
and run down to the kitchen, the chef chops away
you slip in behind him, chop chop away he doesn’t
bat a lid to you routing through the draws throwing

most to the walls, you find what you need and run
to the top deck, a suit tells you to step back
but you give them the slip, knee to the stomach
they flop on the deck, groaning and hunched

they step back up, a crack of the wrist, an almighty punch
over the railings they curse, yell, and cry for the boat
but the captain is networking about his lunch
you pull out the cheese wire and stroll to the pool.

The toff is surrounded, near empty yuppies
photographing themselves perpetuating the fourth
section of sinning ‘though shall not fool yourself
that mankind is winning' with the wealth squandered

here we could afford houses for the women and children
of the war your involved in, to fund the oil sales of the one
in a billion, so they can provide you with a classier
place to abstain from the real life and ****** up system.

Run over and clear the robots of richness, tell them all
'go ahead, keep taking your pictures’ while you strap the wire
around the neck of the fattest cat in business,
they all cry in horror as your grip tightens the purple

-faced smart-mouth shouts out for help but calls his helpers
a 'bunch of ill mannered sirens’ as they step back afraid
a single one daren’t come to his aid as that glint
in your eye shows the will to die to **** the tyrant

who’s gasoline fights killed your mum and your dad
and threaten your kids, you thank god that it’s over
though the system's corrupt, this wars been reinstated
reissued so that those above, know the people

aren’t fooled by their false promised lobbying.
Your death row grin comes back at dinner
as a copycat killing claims the next victim
you were the gush that unclogged the piping.