Lowest Of The Low Eating The Rich Lyrics

Eating The Rich Lyrics

My best friend's got a great career 

She answers phones for seven dollars an hour 

And every now and then we paint the town Red 

And eat our way toward a different balance of power 



Well, it's our fate and we don't refuse it 

It's our plate but we did not choose it 



We're eating the rich now 

It's a revolutionary chow-down 



Well, I'm a snotty brat with a bad attitude 

But I don't believe the world owes me a dinner 

But even Jesus Christ might've dined and dashed 

The last supper... what a bad holy host 

A bread breakin' sinner 



And every power lunch has a Gold-Card lining 

I feel like the Karl Marx of dining 



A brisk run from the cops can help your meal digest 

I suggest not a dead-end alley 

'Cause if they track you down they'll serve you up 

Like a criminal de jour... they'll toss you like a salad 

So, take your place and stop your bitchin' 

The head-chef in the death-row kitchen'