They tell us that we're savages
Who haven't got a hope
We're burning in the furnaces
We're choking at the smokeThey say we haven't got a choice
Refuse to recognize our voice
Yet they enjoy commissions
From the proceeds of the jokeThose Butterfly Boys
At play with their toys
Stinging like bees
Itching like fleasButterfly Boys
You got the toys
You got the breeze
We caught the freezeButterfly Boys
Give us a break
We got the groceries
You got the cakeThey tell us that we're savages
Who cannot understand
We're sailing on a sinking ship
We're swimming in the sandThey put their fingers in their ears
Refuse to recognize our fears
And fly off to Jamaica
When we call them underhandThose Butterfly Boys
At play with their toys
Stinging like bees
Itching like fleasButterfly Boys
You got the toys
You got the breeze
We caught the freezeButterfly Boys
Give us a break
We got the groceries
You got the cakeButterfly Boys
Butterfly Boys
Butterfly Boys
...