The Banker  

 The wolf is at the door
He’s huffing
He’s puffing
Your house is in danger
Of falling down

The wolf is in his counting house
Counting out his money
He howls at the moon
Hysterically laughing
Because his money
Used to be your money

He dresses you
In sheeps clothing
And Apple gadgets
He blows his horn
And you dance to his tune
For minimum wage

The wolf sits you on a wall
You tumble and fall
You break into pieces
It’s your punishment
For your protest
And all the banks horses
And all the banks men
Will only put you back together again
If you comply with the wishes of the wolf

55 million blind mice
See how they run
See how they scurry
He cut off their tales
He cut of their rights
He cut off their will to fight back
A sadder thing
You won’t see in your life
Than 55 million blind mice

There’s a wolf at the door
In an Armani suit
He will take all that you have
And the most you will do
Is quietly bleat
And shake your feet
Like the slaves in shackles you’ve become