I Don’t Have An Accent

I don’t have an accentI don’t have millions in the bankYet, you find my words delightfulI’m flattered & furiously thank

With The Inmates Running The Asylum

With the inmates running the asylum The cavernous tunnels are cold & dank It can be difficult to remember the faces The ones who put you here, the ones to thank But we’re not twiddling our thumbs at night We’re sharpening our words for vengeful retort You think we’re numbed & harmless fools Our bunker: