Look up in the sky: is that a plane or a birdie?
A chalice made out of rock, not solid gold.
Whoever's chasing the grail gets a lump-full of worries.
I never meant to let the billionaires be first
But I gave my water up before I quenched my thirst.
I trade my labor in for scraps of tin.
They're two times the weight of gold.
Who's afraid of the hen house as big as the Ritz?
Eggs laying themselves. Gold shellacked in shit.
I'm sipping out of a grail where the birds are washing.
I never meant to turn my pockets out.
I tried but flapping them don't lift me off the ground.
And like the penguin knows, when the cold wind blows
you can buckle, you can carry on.
I'm hanging onto the rail. There's nothing below me.
I can fly. Will you just untie my legs?
I'm sipping out of a grail some pauper sold me.
Sometimes reflections shine right off the gold.
Billionaires will grab but there is nothing there to hold.
I’d trade the whole mirage for a fuselage and wings to carry on.