(B. Walkenhorst)
There's too many twenties, too many fives
Too many numbers in front of our eyes
Too many statistics that nobody reads
Numbers don't lie but numbers don't bleed
Who's counting when it way past plenty
There's too many twenties
There's too much hush money being passed in the joint
Too many bodies hidden behind the decimal point
A number's got a name, a name's got a face
And a face should have a future and a place that's safe
But the chances of that are between slim and skinny
There's too many twenties
Every second sister's got a fighting chance
Of getting hurt at home by a lover's show of hands
And every fourth daughter's gonna cover up and cry
When she comes home from school saying "Mama, Papa, why?"
What are you gonna tell them, just to smile and look pretty and take it? Huh?
All you fathers looking in your little daughter's eyes
Know that your worst nightmare finds one out of five
Don't worry about cancer, aids, or nothing else
Just worry about the fact there's a man in the house
Till death do us part, man, it do part plenty
There's too many twenties
Tick tock tick tock tick tock
Tick tock tick tock tick tock ten
Somewhere another woman just took it on the chin
Tick tock tick talk is tough
Your sister just had her dignity snuffed
Every second counts, minutes equal many
There's too many twenties
Sound and information are reduced to bites
And the voice of opposition to a stereotype
The numbers are numbing, they're hard to believe
They're blurred by the blood on the balance sheet
Stack the bodies in neat little piles of ten
And hit me
There's too many twenties