They sit in glass towers, untouchable heights,

Cutting jobs to balance the books overnight.

Lives discarded like numbers on a sheet,

While they toast their fortunes and skip the heat.

The factory’s silent, the streets grow cold,

But the boardroom echoes with riches untold.

They call it strategy, a cost-saving plan,

But it’s blood money pooling in their hands.

Golden parachutes for the heartless few,

While the workers drown in debt for you

Line your pockets, watch the fallout fade,

Profits over people in the empire you’ve made.

The layoffs hit, they deliver the blow,

“Economic realities,” the same old show.

But the bonuses bloom like a poisonous tree,

Feeding their greed while the rest can’t breathe.

Downsizing, rightsizing, corporate speak,

A slick translation for crushing the weak.

They raise their glasses to another round,

While families crumble on the battleground.

Golden parachutes for the heartless few,

While the workers drown in debt for you

Line your pockets, watch the fallout fade,

Profits over people in the empire you’ve made.

Efficiency’s a lie, a knife in the back,

To keep the machine on its ruthless track.

The CEO smiles, the headlines cheer,

But the real cost echoes year to year.

Fuck your profits, fuck your greed,

Fuck the system that lets you feed.

Your golden parachute’s laced with pain,

And the fall will leave a lasting stain.

One day the tower will crumble and fall,

No parachute big enough to save them all.

The workers will rise, the balance will shift,

And the golden age of greed will lift.

Golden parachutes for the heartless few,

But the reckoning’s coming, it’s overdue.

Line your pockets, count your gains,

But you can’t escape the cost of chains.