"Money" lyrics
(originally by Pink Floyd)
Money, get away
You get a good job with more pay, and you're okay
Money, it's a gas
Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash
New car, caviar, four-star daydream
Think I'll buy me a football team
Money, get back
I'm alright, Jack, keep your hands off of my stack
Money, it's a hit
Don't give me that do-goody-good bullshit
I'm in the high-fidelity first class traveling set
And I think I need a lear jet
Lear jet
Welcome to hell
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
Welcome to rooftops
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
Welcome to the starlight room
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
Welcome to the underworld
And now, for tonight's main event
The heavyweight
Close swaddled in the cloying folds of fat
The heavyweight, squats freak fearful on his stool
And through toad lids he squints his vision of the world
The gray parade of waiters and trade is retinue of course
Seconds thirds and fourths, clean tick-like to his skin
The bell sounds in the corner of the ring
A fresh contender for his crown
Puts out his pale hand to shake before the bout
Champion blinks his sticky tongue swallowing greed
With cuprous speed snakes out
It's lights out for the kid, his grace and wit
In that split second plucked sucked dissolved
Reduced petty bulk digested shit
The champ well satisfied adjusts his sumo backside on the stool
Draws 'round his clock breaks wind out loud
The crowd howls it's approval
But in the shadow of the Ring with cloven hoof and a crooked grin
The devil pats the briefcase that holds the Faustian Pact
He smiles, enjoys his little joke
Because he knows the Champion's cloak is but a shroud in fact
Money, it's a crime
Share it fairly, but don't take a slice of my pie
Money, so they say
Is the root of all evil today
But if you ask for a rise, it's no surprise
That they're giving none away, away
Giving none away
Giving none away
How much you givin' away?
Uh
None
You get a good job with more pay, and you're okay
Money, it's a gas
Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash
New car, caviar, four-star daydream
Think I'll buy me a football team
Money, get back
I'm alright, Jack, keep your hands off of my stack
Money, it's a hit
Don't give me that do-goody-good bullshit
I'm in the high-fidelity first class traveling set
And I think I need a lear jet
Lear jet
Welcome to hell
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
Welcome to rooftops
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
Welcome to the starlight room
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
Welcome to the underworld
And now, for tonight's main event
The heavyweight
Close swaddled in the cloying folds of fat
The heavyweight, squats freak fearful on his stool
And through toad lids he squints his vision of the world
The gray parade of waiters and trade is retinue of course
Seconds thirds and fourths, clean tick-like to his skin
The bell sounds in the corner of the ring
A fresh contender for his crown
Puts out his pale hand to shake before the bout
Champion blinks his sticky tongue swallowing greed
With cuprous speed snakes out
It's lights out for the kid, his grace and wit
In that split second plucked sucked dissolved
Reduced petty bulk digested shit
The champ well satisfied adjusts his sumo backside on the stool
Draws 'round his clock breaks wind out loud
The crowd howls it's approval
But in the shadow of the Ring with cloven hoof and a crooked grin
The devil pats the briefcase that holds the Faustian Pact
He smiles, enjoys his little joke
Because he knows the Champion's cloak is but a shroud in fact
Money, it's a crime
Share it fairly, but don't take a slice of my pie
Money, so they say
Is the root of all evil today
But if you ask for a rise, it's no surprise
That they're giving none away, away
Giving none away
Giving none away
How much you givin' away?
Uh
None
Writer(s): George Roger Waters
