Big Shots, Big Shits

The cronies run with their bags
Others are left, far, far, behind
The cronies are running with their bags
No one can tell where to
While a thief he was beaten to death
He was caught stealing a bucket

The masters are following
Our masters are following
From above us, to get rid of us
They might return next election
But that's not an issue anymore
We're used to survive without them

The superstars are flying away
Far, far, farther from the real stars
They are beyond the stars
But they have left, of the land,
Their misery and nothingness
Let the stars shine no more



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