I see grains of white, brown coffee, too
But not for me, and not for you
And I think to myself, what a Bloombergish world

I see signs upon Dunkin Donuts’ shelves
“You will have to pour sugar for yourselves”
And I say to myself, what a Bloombergish world

The colors of a rainstorm . . . the gloom that clouds the morn
And also on the faces . . . of customers forlorn
I see friends shaking heads, with their faces askew
They’re really saying, Bloomberg adieu

I hear adults cry . . . words of hate
And there’s more to come from the Nanny State
And I think to myself, what a Bloombergish world

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