"Barter's out the symbol's alive," the workers shout from the lines. Markets shake to the sound of the new sign made portable. The bankers sing for their tithes, you can hear them singing. "It's mine, all mine, my oh my." You see in our eyes, a hallowed device. Devised to keep collectors comin'.

Sort it out, the beggars from mimes, looks are cheap but don't lie. This is a promise of debt, this is a promise of class division. Bought for the times, a capital capital device. Devised to keep collections hungry.

Your opinion, how much is it worth?

Lyrics submitted by VampedVixen

Fiscal Years Here song meanings
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