[Intro – dry, sarcastic calm] They fly private to tell you how to live. [Verse 1] Glass terminals, leather seats, Climate vows between champagne sips. They land, they preach, they pose for cams, Then tax your breath with trembling hands. They say “sacrifice”, mean you, not me, Say “carbon”, point at your degree. Lights on stage, halos rented, Morals leased, emissions exempted. Every mile they burn in silence, You repay with daily compliance. Same sermon, different altitude— Rules for the many, jets for the few. [Pre-Chorus] They call it leadership, I call it theatre. Same sky, different gravity. [Chorus – punchy, anthemic] Private jets, public rules— they fly above the laws they use. Private jets, public rules— your limits fund their latitude. They lecture life from thirty thousand feet, then land to bill you for the heat. [Verse 2] Photo ops with recycled lines, “Global good” in tailored ties. They measure virtue by the crowd, Not by what they’ll never give up now. Offsets bought, consciences cleared, A receipt for every fear. If you dissent, you’re “anti-science”, If you comply, you’re “doing your part”. They don’t ban flights, they ban choice, They don’t hear you, they manage noise. Policy dressed as lifestyle advice— Smile for the camera, pay the price. [Pre-Chorus 2] If rules don’t bind the rule-makers, They’re not rules. They’re tools. [Chorus – variation] Private jets, public rules— clean hands, dirty fuel. Private jets, public rules— they preach restraint, then refuel. Same planet, different lanes, Your “duty” pays their gains. [Bridge – stripped, biting] This isn’t about climate. It’s about class. Who moves freely— and who must ask. [Break – beat drops to tight kick/snare, bass only, no melody] [Final Chorus – heavier] Private jets, public rules— no mandate, just a script. They sell morality in bulk, Then exempt themselves from it. When the sermon needs a runway, The truth is already bruised. [Outro – calm, final] Lead by example— or stop calling it leadership.
