I am the fox, I am the artist I am the magic man who makes things grow You give me ten, I give you twenty You give me water, I give you Merlot From red to black, Ursa to Taurus From Flinty Michigan to Mexico Don't ask me how, that's not your business Don't make me tell you things you should not know...
You've got your class, you've got your image You've got your mistresses and families You need your sleep, need your excuses And plausible deniabilities I know your work, I know your problems Leave those gory details up to me. We'll toast the market, we'll toast to profit And when we're done we will discuss my feeÖ
I work for stocks, a gun for hire I'll fire everyone you ought to fire Then change the locks and call the buyer Collect our Bouillon and we'll all retire. Don't look so shocked, say I'm a liar Say you're a businessman who stands for something higher. Take your time; collect your thoughts. Then let this opportunity out of the box: I work for stocks.
I see my history precedes me: There are a few of you who knew me when I was a dabbler in guns and slavery I turned Apartheid into pounds and yen. Don't be naïve, don't be so preachy: This is now, and brother, that was then. And this is legal ('til further notice) And we may never get this chance again.