Light a candle for the new religion.
Sing along to the offertory hymn.
This state church runs no risk of separation,
so pass the plate, then pass the plate again.
You're asking the wrong saints for intercession
if you're doing it on your knees,
'cause it's the huge donations that demand adoration,
saying, "Do this in memory of me."

And the schoolyard bully wins again
'cause politics makes powerful friends.
Truth and Honor are on the outs again;
they're sleeping with Supply and Demand.
Let's have a round of applause for the
Twenty-First Century Plan.

They're gathered thick around the marketplace of power,
sticking fingers in the governmental till.
You may hope that these checks will all be balanced,
but no, they won't. And no, they never will.
This is our one hope for representation:
to cast our votes with the cash we spend.
'Cause the slogans they gave us are not gonna save us
when the dead presidents rise again.

And the white-collar welfare kings
hatch moneymaking schemes
on everyone else's dime.
And no one has a clue
who the golden parachutes
will be smashing flat next time.
But we'll fight over the wreckage
like a preschool mob
(while they laugh behind their hands)
and stage a holy war over
the color of the quicksand.