Why are we out here struggling
Working our asses off to make ends meet
Inflation keeps on rising
Can only afford to walk down the street
Searching for the righteous path
So I won’t hinder my sisters & brothers
Don’t want to dislodge Oliver’s bowl
Please Mr. President, may I have another?
But he’s in the back, fiddling slowly
Inhaling the fumes from foreign petroleum
While the value of the dollar mmm drops
Loose strings dangle, but he’s not controlling ‘em
Ready to tax any of the alms we might receive
Taking our currency without any thanks
Not looked upon as human beings
Merely a vote they use as their personal piggybanks
Captain Q 