I would be a liar if I pretended I admire The red-light windscreen-cleaning empire that you’ve built. But my heart is good it’s not a thing of stone and wood I’ll give you 50 cents to take away my guilt. I give money to folk who just don’t have enough, To try to justify the future purchases of stuff That I don’t need. I know that one less Vodka Cranberry tonight Could probably feed some foreign family for a fortnight, But I might just have one more. After all what is Vodka for Apart from making you want to shag your best mate’s wife, And drowning out the guilt you feel about your perfect life? Fuck the poor, what is all this hoo-ha for? There’s only one reason I’ll phone 1800 034 034 It’s the force behind Teresa and the school that Oprah built, I’ll give you 50 bucks to take away my guilt. Fuck the poor, I’m not pretending any more That I really give two shits about some kids in Bangalore. I’m more interested in footy than seeing the Solomon’s rebuilt, But I’ll give you 50 bucks to take away my guilt.
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