You're marchin' in the streets with a professionally printed sign, Mad about a tweet from 2009. You want to "eat the rich" but you line up for the newest iPhone, Texting 'bout the revolution from a thousand-dollar loan. You claim you're for the people, for the weary and the weak, But you'd have a full-blown meltdown if I happen to mispeak. Your yoga mat and your activism, they're your brand new church, While I'm over here just doin' my own research.