<Brady, Paul> page <Hooba Dooba> album page |
Money To BurnShe don't want to hear you cryin' againCallin' out your existential pain Comes a time when every sensitive brain Needs a taste of reality Yeah, the money markets are wreckin' your head You shoulda bought commodities instead Now you spend your whole day living in dread Of impending mortality My friend, tell me what it's gonna take To make you understand? You can still do anything you want When you're free to write the plan When you gonna realise how lucky you are? You could be a boy child soldier in somebody's war Find that you're a sex-trade prisoner with nowhere to turn All I hear is one white male with money to burn And a whole lot to learn Money to burn, so much to learn It's true that you're a self-made mystical man Never had a daddy's helping hand Every little thing that's at your command Was the fruit of invention Now you think some hell hound's draggin' you down You face into the future with a frown All I want to do is take you crosstown To another dimension My friend, tell me what I gotta do To make you see for real? You can still go anywhere you please When your hands are on the wheel When you gonna realise how lucky you are? You could be an infant junkie screamin' for more Or clingin' to a refugee boat waitin' offshore Knowing that your owner keeps every penny you earn 'N' all you get to meet each day are the tricks that you turn All I hear is one white male with money to burn And a whole lot to learn Still plenty to learn Money to burn, so much to learn |