| Refreshing bills
|
| To warm the slots in the till
|
| Infernal wheel
|
| That churns the ocean of milk
|
| That long wire is frayed
|
| Don’t shout out proudly that the cash cow’s lame
|
| That proud call is wrong
|
| Don’t scoot by trumpeting the cash cow’s gone
|
| The quantize knob
|
| That drains the beat of all soul
|
| You hapless slob
|
| Go back to sink in your hole
|
| This thing’s going down
|
| Don’t gift-horse gawk it at the cash cow now
|
| Disdainful clown
|
| Don’t go 'round mocking on the cash cow now
|
| And I will offer you a place
|
| In my pavilion
|
| And I must stick close to the grace
|
| Of fifty billion
|
| Smoke in the mouth
|
| Stick in a candy apple
|
| So luminous-
|
| Skinned, but the face is awful
|
| Some cloud unknown
|
| This pinkness creeping as the sun comes low
|
| That long haul, wow
|
| Don’t go 'round mocking on the cash cow now
|
| And I will offer you a place
|
| In my pavilion
|
| And I must stick close to the grace
|
| Of fifty billion
|
| And I will offer you a place…
|
| And I must stick close to the grace…
|
| And I will offer you a place…
|
| And I will offer you a place…
|
| And I will offer you a place…
|
| And I will offer you a place…
|
| And I will offer you a place…
|
| And I will offer you a place…
|
| And I will offer you a place…
|
| And I will offer you a place… |