Not Quite.
Time sits heavily on the marbled mantlepiece
I’m not sure if you’re real or you’re fake
The life you live is so outlandish
But you wouldn’t sell the land
Yet you sell your own future well-being
For the fuzzy hazy presentness of alcohol

THE FAT CAT SITS ON THE MAT

I’m a Fat-Cat
Reaping in the profits of insider dealing
I’m a Fat-Cat
I’m into ‘In-The-Know’ trading
I’m a Fat-Cat
I don’t care who I swindle
I’m a Fat-Cat
I’ve got all the Status-Symbols