Festivus Blues: Broken Promises

Oh they promised the moon, they promised the stars. Said they'd open

the gates, but they left the bars. Chuck and Mitch played the game,

dangling dreams while we're stuck in the middle of their smoky scheme. Oh,

oh, oh, oh. Eighty percent tax man taking his

cut, banks won't touch us, we're out of luck.

Festivus blues, yeah, I'm airing it loud for the promises

broken, the lies in the crowd. They made the rules and they

built the cage while the suits got richer off a rigged up stage,