Standard (EADGBE)

  The moon is hanging in a purple sky

  Baby's sleeping while his mother sighs

  Talking about the rich folks

  The rich folks have the same jokes

  But they park in basic places

The priest is preaching from a shallow grave

Counts his money, then he paints you saved

Talking `bout the young folks

Young folks share the same jokes

But they meet in older places

Chorus

 So don't tell me about your success

 Nor your recipes for my happiness

 Smoke in bed, I never could digest

 Those illusions you claim to have going

The sun is shining as it always done

Coffin dust is the fate of everyone

Talking about the rich folks

The poor create the rich hoax

And only late breast fed fools believe it

Chorus