| See them scramble to the top |
| Watch them fall from grace |
| Never trust a man |
| With egg on his face |
| Groucho Marxists look so sweet |
| Slapstick anarchists, nice enough to eat |
| Peter Kropotkin in the way we talk |
| Charlie Cairoli in the way we walk |
| See them scramble to the top |
| Watch them fall from grace |
| Never trust a man |
| With egg on his face |
| Intellectual tarts with a good left hook |
| Copycat killers, cover and duck |
| Polite assassins, you shout, I scream |
| And the party starts, on a count of one, two, three |
| See them scramble to the top |
| Watch them fall from grace |
| Never trust a man |
| With egg on his face |
| We talk without words, and everybody understands |
| Just desserts, delivered by hand |
| Nobody move or the CEO |
| Gets it in the face with cream and dough |
| See them scramble to the top |
| Watch them fall from grace |
| Never trust a man |
| With egg on his face |
| See them scramble to the top |
| Watch them fall from grace |
| Never trust a man |
| With egg on his face |
| See them scramble to the top |
| Watch them fall from grace |
| Never trust a man |
| With egg on his face |
| «What? What’s that? Who’s there? Fido? Ahhh, it’s you Mrs. Arbuthnot» |