Will you, won't you?

High on money
But low on care
High on profits
(Let's up the fare!)

Hopping to London
And Paris for chores
Not knowing who handles
Our own dirty clothes

Did you see her shoes
Now, darling, that's nice
Jimmy Choo does bring
That certain spice

Prada and Chanel
We rack up the bills
Not knowing who labour
At that moment kills

Or the servants who drive us
Who feed us our meals
Who deal with our children
Their tantrums, their squeals

It's in front of our eyes
But we heed it we don't
Misery is caused
By people who WON'T