Critique in G

There's a bastard called the economy

And it keeps poor people poor

While the fat cats with the money

Go on making more and more

They've wrapped him in bandages

To hide his gaping sores

So we can't see that

He's just rotten to the core

Oh they've pumped him with medicine

Prescribed by good old ****

No matter what they do

We all get ripped off just the same

The liberals slugged us

Twenty-three years until we'd had enough

Everyone got sick of them

So brought in uncle Gough

Then he got sacked

Now Malcolm’s back

****

Got the biggest election

That Tammy's ever seen

Oh it doesn't matter who's in power

'Cause it's a crooked game

It's a sure bet we will all get

Ripped off just the same

The economy's a mad machine

Which no one can control

Fat cats fight for the driver's seat

But the steering wheel's been sold

To the yanks and other foreigners

Who'll give it a dizzy spin

Any time they feel their

Ripped off pockets getting thin

Oh a little touch of makeup

It's such a good [en] shame

It's a sure bet we will all get

Ripped off just the same

Oh there's no two ways about it

If we all don't force a change

It goes on and on and

We get ripped off just the same