My accountant stole my money
And the media, they diss me for my air miles,
I’m no longer all smiles.
Now I can’t play for dictators
Even though that cash economy
helps to pay for the big houses in the cunt-er-eee
And the music of my lute
isn’t bearing financial fruit.
I’m the prince of pain
Wearing my shirt of hurt.Statistics: Posted by Johnny Anarchy — Mon Mar 01, 2010 1:54 pm
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