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Could've been a farmer underneath the golden arches My crops could be the fries that people dropped Sell them back to Ronald at a healthy profit margin Bring down the clown The kids would all cheer My feet are set in gold Though I'm poor, tired and old I'm just refuse Debris of this heartless machine And now I'm dumping that which has on me Could've been a vagrant underneath the golden arches The neon keeps me warm at night With mustard for a McFacial and pickles for a pillow Makes being poor and alone not seem that bad Through everything Christ is King Could have been head of a union that covered bullets to boot-scootin' I'd set the masses free from all that jazz Now I'm a part of that which won't part from me Aus Songtexte Mania