Bull

The illicit use of bullshit Has reached a new plateau It has fertilized the market By the boys that run the show The mush cannot consider muse As the handshakes turn to hugs The compliments are not small jokes That get swept beneath the rugs The best believe their own bullshit They swear it’s not their game You know that we’re all guilty But some just know no shame They all have shovels aready Smiles packed with squirrels cheeks Tarps are covering everything As the dummy sits and speaks “I came from a fluent ghetto But I rose up from the night To speak back to you a story That I dreamed up late last night” “The things I know are fantasy As I rub your backs by day They pay me like I’m useful Because I know just what to say”