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I went and turned on my television set
And I saw a man whose eyes were devil's red
He was talking about a housing crisis
And how inflation was killing all our prices
I knew that soon enough he would find it in him
He chuckled to himself that, well, while he's flattered
He said that since he's rich it doesn't really matter
And I said
You can't tell us what to do
You're higher than any of us could shoot
I met up with an agent from the west
He said he'd give us all that we could ever get
I figured that this was all just a merry jest
And I let him know where I stand and to him I said
You can't tell us what to do
You don't know what we've been through
I knew a guy once, his name I can't remember
But he was always getting hay fever in late December
He fought against the upper types until he was dead
And he told me some advice, and this is what he said
You can't tell us what to do
He told me that no matter what you knew
You can't tell us what to do
Even if you bring something brand new