Mr. Money

When I see you walking, stalking down the street
Handing out death to whoever you meet
I hide my shadow, shake and drown in sweat of fear
I lurk and run and pray you don't come near
And I know that you'll stab me in the back
'Cause you work for
Mr. Money
Mr. Money
I don't need the fame and I don't need the fortune
I don't need the pain and I don't need the torture
I don't want anything that has to to do with you
I have met the enemy, and the enemy is you!
And I know that you'll stab me in the back
'Cause you work for
Mr. Money
Mr. Money
Mr. Money
Mr. Money
But how can you kill, the king of death?
And how can you hurt, the prince of pain?
And how can you ever even hope to stay dry
Under Mr. Money's reign?
Your swastika has now become a dollar sign
Your Bible is now your check book
You take them to the bank and bring them to their knees
Make them pay their dues while they pay your fees
And I know that you'll stab me in the back
And I know that you'll stop me in my tracks
And I know that you'll kill me to get back
What you owe to
Mister
Money!
Money
Money
Money
Money
Money
Money
Money
Money