Every time that ugly mug starts to twitch, I wanna punch right through the fucking screen. Sleek parasite, billionaire prick, Flashing those bleached-white teeth makes me sick. Patek Philippe, custom-tailored coat, Shoving his boot right down my throat. Gripping a remote that's broken in half, Drowning in the echo of his canned laugh. But the worst part, it's a rigged trap: I'm too damn broke to walk away from this crap. I could smash the fucking screen! But a new one costs a month's pay. And I need to watch that bastard's face, To see what bullshit he'll sell next day. That greedy fuck claims we're tightening belts, Then boards his jet with his private whores. Bleeds the clinics, starves the blocks, Then buys another yacht down at the docks. While I'm pulling double shifts, losing my fucking mind, Staring at the bastard leaving all of us behind. He knows I'm hooked on this shit show, He knows I'll sit here and watch it grow. And here's the poison, the needle that stings: I'm just a puppet on his golden strings. I could smash the fucking screen! But a new one costs a month's pay. And I need to watch that bastard's face, To see what bullshit he'll sell next day. I could smash the fucking screen! But a new one costs a month's pay. And I need to watch that bastard's face, To see what bullshit he'll sell next day. Yeah, what bullshit he'll sell next day.
