Stroll through the shanties and the cities' remains
Same bodies buried hungry but with different last names
These vultures rob everything, leave nothing but chains
Pick a point on the globe, yes, the picture's the same
There's a bank, there's a church, a myth and a hearse
A mall and a loan, a child dead at birth
There's a widow pig parrot, a rebel to tame
A white-hooded judge, a syringe and a vein
And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard