Prisons profit, peasants plea, but they don’t seem to listen, see
Why should I abide by men when law can make me rich again?
Tell me more about this thing, this concept carved into your ring
Tell me of this thing you touch this, thing you claim that you call “justice”
I’ve created all the courts, they work the way I said they could
If you don’t like it, sorry son, I did the things I said I would
Craft the culture, quell the hate, make them all appreciate
Give them things they did not have, so moral high grounds mine to make
It wasn’t hard, ‘twas easy, see
We just convinced them to believe
We made the masses spill their crimes, cry and beg and then repent
Then hung the guilty with the pockets of the ignorant innocent
How the World Should Work 