He was sick and tired of always being the odd one out
In a place where the mean street cars were littered with fallout
Of the American Money, coupled with native misgivings
Of the future of cities, where he was inclined to agree with
Millions of unemployed policemen, all over the eastern world
Will lose their powers of persuasion, and it seems such a waste
And no amount of retraining in the socially-useful will make up
For that k**er instinct new nations value so greatly
And I want to thank you, I want to thank you, for letting me be yourself again
There's few things you can't buy without American Money here
Just give me one good reason, please give me one good reason, why I shouldn't be myself again
There's some things you can't buy without American Money here
It sh**s on your dreams daily, barely makes up for the handouts