Dein Warenkorb ist gerade leer!
It was the wedding of the year I’d say, if not the century
The helicopter taxis filled the sky
And the dress cost a country
And our job was to sit and stare, open-mouthed
And reflect on our place in this lottery.
Here’s the renaissance man from the 80’s band talking to the oligarch
He’s heard all the rumours but he wants to find out for himself
But the daughter assures him they’re fans of human fights
So he’ll sing for his supper in this pantomime of wealth
In this worldwide pantomime of wealth.
Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
Make room for the butlers, the maids, the domestic help
Some will get smart uniforms, others hidden beneath the stairs
Extras in this pantomime of wealth.
It was the wedding of the year I’d say, if not the century
The helicopter taxis filled the sky and the dress cost a country
And our job was to sit and stare, open-mouthed
And reflect on our place in this lottery.
In this worldwide pantomime of wealth
In this worldwide pantomime of wealth.
We are the many, they are the few.