Philosophy For Beggars

They toss us some change in the hat like a bribe to the gods,
We are reading Descartes on the margins of torn front pages.
Aristotle in overcoats serves as a meal for the odds,
When satiety dictates the plot for the groomed in their cages.
Here morality's sold by the pound, just like morning cheese,
And the bank notes decide who's a genius and who is a fool.
But while all these snobs buy their plastic-wrapped worlds as they please,
Our thoughts act like razors and quietly trim down their rule.


Empires are built out of falsehood, while ours are of words,
On the porch of the century, credit is promised to rule.
But reason is sharper than blades and more solid than swords,
When we are removing the crowns from the head of a fool.

Припев
Philosophy for the beggars is luxury of empty purses,
It's the right to look down at the lords from a high mountain peak.
Where the gold always rules, you won't find any elevated verses,
But in pockets with holes bloom the heavenly gardens we seek.
Yeah, in pockets with holes bloom the heavenly gardens we seek!

Spinoza would weep if he saw what we have for a feast:
Two crusts of illusions and mugs of a cooling despair.
But he who is wealthy is tied like a circus ring beast,
Submissively marching, confined in a vise of his care.
Their tuxedos choke them, their yachts are just sailing nowhere,
Discussions come down to the market and currency rates.
But our true freedom is cold water falling from air,
And a perfectly honest salute that no money dictates.


Empires are built out of falsehood, while ours are of words,
On the porch of the century, credit is promised to rule.
But reason is sharper than blades and more solid than swords,
When we are removing the crowns from the head of a fool.

Припев
Philosophy for the beggars is luxury of empty purses,
It's the right to look down at the lords from a high mountain peak.
Where the gold always rules, you won't find any elevated verses,
But in pockets with holes bloom the heavenly gardens we seek.


They purchase immortal lifespans in a Swiss alpine lodge,
Attempting to put off the end with a sterilized leach.
But the zeros on statements are nothing a free soul can't dodge,
The truth walks the earth keeping out of the wealthy men's reach.
We drink this deep bitterness down like a vintage grand cru!



Припев
Philosophy for the beggars is luxury of empty purses,
It's the right to look down at the lords from a high mountain peak.
Where the gold always rules, you won't find any elevated verses,
But in pockets with holes bloom the heavenly gardens we seek.


We are monarchs of slums.
We are thinkers of dusty old roads.
You can take all your shine...
Our triumph's in faded out odes.