Ok, um, so how many parents must the young people kill,

To get some of that 'great wealth transfer' and pay rent?

Or perhaps, better than forcing families to inner fight,

We hack at a few billionaires to spread richly around!

Luckily, the young folk been practicing their dead stare,

Feeling apathy-faced glazing at all the hoarded riches,

Getting in mood to march a pillage on gilded mansions.

Hey, hey billionaire, how long do you think you'll stay alive,

When hungry and homeless come banging on your door,

You thought you rose so high, to the safest heavenly skies,

Only to greedily fall into peoples calloused working hands,

You took way too much, and now its time to pay it all back,

I got my dead eye looking at you, as do the young folk too!