The poor have been robbed, you've no chance for a job,

I was told at the CES meeting,

I came out the room, in a blanket of gloom,

And shaking my fist at Paul Keating.

But I thought of a trick, to get rich pretty quick,

And away from a life without hope,

With unstable adults, I'd create a new cult,

And soon be as rich as the pope.

With a failed degree, in some philosophy,

And the new Guinness book of quotations,

I'll grow my hair long, then chant Indian songs,

And claim I'm a reincarnation.

I'll get all these mugs hooked onto hard drugs,

To stop them from running away,

And one other thing, to get the crowds in,

I'll have a gang bang every day.

The cult would grow fast, with restaurants and bars,

To help fund the whole operation,

I'm sure it'll work if I say I'm a church,

It'll make me immune from taxation.

I'll add to my hoard with con tricks and fraud,

Till I have an enormous amount,

And when it suits me, I'll leave the country,

To live of my Swiss bank account.