Churn, Churn, Churn

Churn, Churn, Churn

For everything there is a reason;

A profit born for every season.

From dawn to dusk the grand cohesion

Picks the scab of nature's lesion.

Churn, churn, churn.

Once a lush and beautiful land

Untouched by the greedy baron hand;

No matter the time, the shore, the sand,

Yielded treasures beyond demand.

Churn, churn, churn.

An idea birthed by greed, you say?

A crusty pilgrim's paid holiday

Or the wanderlust of, yeah or nay,

The inner groaning for far and away?

Listen closely for the sound

Of second's hand completing its round.

Timeless pirates and reapers abound, 

Raping the plunder they "thought" they found.

Churn, churn, churn.

As so it was, and so it is

The prophet dare not be remiss,

And asks you plainly, answer this:

What's the going price for eternal bliss?

Churn, churn, churn