N.E.R.D

[Verse I – The Comparison Disease] 
The rich man grows a mountain of gold, 
but can’t feel its weight till the poor are told. 
He compares his stash to billionaire peers,
jostling for rank through fiscal years.

But 99% suffer, starve, or strain, 
and comparison there is a broken chain. 
He says, “I didn’t invent the game,” 
but still feeds the fire that fans the flame.

[Verse II – The Hoarding Disorder] 
It’s OCD, not just ambition, 
a sickness masked as fiscal tradition. 
Wealth is blood, economy the stream, 
meant to flow through mankind’s dream.

But hoarding dams the sacred flow, 
turns lush terrain to desert below. 
Everything living starts to die, 
while the rich man watches from on high.

[Verse III – Automation’s Crossroads] 
Now AI rises, robots awake, 
labour erased, abundance to make. 
But the hoarder’s mind won’t let it be, 
he wants you poor so he feels free.

It’s not enough to be rich alone, 
he needs you beneath his throne. 
Even when machines can give you all, 
he’ll build a wall to make you crawl.

[Verse IV – The Shielded Elite] 
Factories shielded, robotic gates, 
inside: creation, outside: fate. 
No need for labour, no need for hands, 
just poisoned lands and barren sands.

It’s not first world, second, third— 
it’s elite and desperate, unheard. 
They won’t need you, won’t feed your life, 
they’ll watch you fall, ignore your strife.

[Inset Verse – The Disorder Named] 
It’s Obsessive Compulsive Greed, 
a sickness born of billionaire creed. 
Nazi power elite with a velvet glove, 
controlling banks, corporations, governments above.

[Verse V – The Chance to Shift] 
It’s hard to heal a mind diseased, 
especially one so rich, so pleased. 
They won’t build heaven, they’ll build a wall, 
and use the trance to make us crawl.

They still need hands to grease the gears, 
like guards who served through Nazi years. 
But when the top dogs flee the scene, 
the rest are left in a world obscene.

The future’s taking shape at breakneck speed,
we must stand up, speak out, be heard, in deed.
Now’s the time to break the spell, 
before we’re cast in a private hell. 




Obsessive Compulsive Greed

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