They live behind iron gates,
Paying cold-hard cash to change their fate.
But deep inside they're filled with hate.
Hate for the common joe,
You know the one that no one knows.
But I don't feel sorry for him,
The ones I feel sorry for is them.
'Cause they're the ones who have it all,
But to get it they had to crawl.
Crawl upon their hands and knees,
Just like the so-called common sleeze.