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Crooked

Updated on September 3, 2016

CROOKED

You black suit, leather shoes, tie expense account

You white smile, white lie that lies to me

You talk, talk tick toc time is money

You tall short fat thin black and white money man

Why do you sit up there and look down upon me

Why do I dream your dim dimes dirty delights

Why is he and she doing your sins

It seems to me that we do not need you

Maybe not that flashy nickle

That tickles feeble people to trouble

While telling tall tales of tales that never were

What makes men shackle me slave

Sell me cent for sence shores abroad

Make my economy, your colony for trade

Stork people, stock market, stock exchange by order

What makes me value for your money

What makes tic and toc tic to your talk

What's the trick that cuns your fox

You black suit, leather shoes, tie expense account.

© 2016 Caleb Leshan

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