Cashflow projections, drift through the ether Big crowds are chanting, and headlines are clear Nothing is happening, praise to st. Peter Enjoy this happy-meal, please have no fear When all your numbers go from black to red Temptations of salvation in your head They push you down and when you fail to rise Profiteer on your demise Nothing is sacred, not even street cred Doctors and lawyers will be living in slums Tables will turn, and our prophet says That all their CEOs will live and die as bums