Lowest Of The Low

Eating The Rich

Lowest Of The Low


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'