8. Paul's Epistle to the New Confederacy (Pt.8) Stupid (Even for a Fish)

Rich men lure you

With cheap bait:

You wanna be rich like me?

I got a plan to sell you.

How’d the last plan someone sold you work out?

Rich men jerk you

Like a gut-hooked catfish:

Look! Over there!

Brown people taking your jobs!

So you do want that job cleaning grandpa’s senile shitass?

Rich men scare you

Like a piss-pant toddler:

They’re a comin’ for your gun,

Go get drunk and shoot things!

Nobody wants your toy (except another child)

Rich men screw you

Like a meth-head whore:

Bend you over a paycheck

And jackhammer your mortgaged future.

When all you care about is money, you don’t really care

Rich men own you

Like the livestock you are:

Poleaxed by fear

You queue up for the slaughter.

Do you know that your kids are in line behind you?

Rich men mock you

Because why not:

You cower before Fox boogeymen

Selling gold and toilet paper.

Your fear bankrolls trustfunder’s trips to Vegas.