Stroll through the shanties and the cities' remains
    Same bodies buried hungry but with different last names
    These vultures rob everything, leave nothing but chains
    Pick a point on the globe, yes, the picture's the same
    There's a bank, there's a church, a myth and a hearse
    A mall and a loan, a child dead at birth
    There's a widow pig parrot, a rebel to tame
    A white-hooded judge, a syringe and a vein

    And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard