You told me how to cut my hair,
And talked over what I had to say.

Mind control begins when you sit down,
And trust the process to be okay.

But then the money stops flowing,
And so do your guns of hot air.

Everything went stylishly bankrupt,
While we all just sat there.

Now you are out on the street,
And so are the ghosts of us.

Because you pandered to our egos,
The most ancient breach of trust.