This is a story about three little piggies---Three little piggies who never went to market, especially on a Friday afternoon, when they stayed at home and let other people bring home the bacon. And they still do. But the rashers get thinner and thinner, and life's knives get sharper and sharper.
This milchcow has given its last pound of flesh
Their coffers, once full, will be emptiness
A curse for a night time; a curse for a lifetime
Three months have gone, and six months are due-time
Threatening squeals; it's shut up and pay time
For three little piggies, wither and decay time
Happy greet, happy meet, but better happy-due-goodbye-time
The three months have gone, it's six months to pay time
As we have seen, the guilty have no pride
But their lies do lead to their own suicide
This milchcow has given its last pound of flesh
Young coffins will fill their hearts' emptiness
Now you have seen, I can't help but grin
My angels are coming from deep within
Now you have heard, I can't help but grin
My demons are coming from deep within