For lunch I eat gold bars,
A diamond dessert, petroleum cream
I'm called Beelzebub, master of the stratosphere
I'm unbelievably cool, my respect is beyond measure
Chorus:
In my left hand a "Snickers", in my right hand a "Mars"
My PR manager is Karl Marx
In my left hand a "Snickers", in my right hand a "Mars"
My PR manager is Karl Marx
Capital! Capital! Capital! Capital!
I eat cities, wash them down with seas
My beard blots out the sky
Thunder and lightning, fog and rain
Ministers and leaders lay at my feet
Chorus
In my left hand a "Snickers", in my right hand a "Mars"
My PR manager is Karl Marx
My face is Madonna, inside is a bad apple*
Everyone on your knees! Orchestra, flourish!
Capital! Capital! Capital! Capital!