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Priests Of The Golden Bull
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Who brought the bomb wrapped up in business cards And stained with steak? Who hires a maid to wash his money? Who keeps politicians on the take? Who puts outspoken third-worlders in jail Just to shut them down? Oh the lies vary from place to place but the truth is still the same, Even in this town Money junkies all over the world Trample us on their way to the bank They run in every race Windego Third-worlders see it first: The dynamite, the dozers, the cancer and the acid rain The corporate caterpillars come into our backyards And turn the world to pocket change Reservations are the nuclear frontline; Uranium poisoning kills We're starving in a handful of gluttons We're drowning in their gravy spills

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