Have I told you that currently
I'm building an anthill out of currency
The workers work for pennies
The wallpaper's made of dollar bills
One could comfortably live inside their house
Possibly with offspring and a spouse
If they sat for family portrait
You could not exaggerate how still
They all sat while holding hands
Like little, tiny grains of sand
That were untouched by wind and rain
But managed to erode to nothing
Anyway
Attention
Starting Immediately the General Public
Has been granted permission to wake up
About what's going on around us
Everyone is under strict orders
To listen to Music
In the safety of your own homes
And make love responsibly
In this place made up of old men's faces
A young girl braces to take her medication
That provides her with sensations that
Let her know she's happy
On Sundays they all ride the Ferris Wheel
It's made of smooth, cold, hard steel
And when they get off
They ask if they can go home
They say it'll always be under construction
They say it came with a beautiful set of instructions
But those were used as kindling
When I burned at the stake
That low-down, dirty liar
That goes by the name of They
I... If you're still with us out there
We here at the top
Would like you to know
That it was a great ride
While it lasted
Those of us with the privilege to
Carry on living as if nothing has changed
Thank you for not rising up
And eating the wealthy
Signing Off
In my anthill made of currency
There's a constant vague sense
Of urgency
Nothing's being done
Someone really ought to do something about it
And on Wednesdays everybody sings
The exact same song
In the exact same key
The song goes
A faceless God upon his throne
Will hold the strings of many
Pull and pull he will 'til Free Will
We don't have any
When all our strings are nice and pulled
And all of us are good and fooled
We'll look up to the sky and say
I didn't want it anyway