Who brought the bomb wrapped up in business cards  And stained with steak?  Who hires a maid to wash his money?  Who keeps politicians on the take?  Who puts outspoken third-worlders in jail   Just to shut them down?  Oh the lies vary from place to place but the truth is still the same,   Even in this town    Money junkies all over the world  Trample us on their way to the bank  They run in every race  Windego    Third-worlders see it first:   The dynamite, the dozers, the cancer and the acid rain  The corporate caterpillars come into our backyards  And turn the world to pocket change  Reservations are the nuclear frontline;  Uranium poisoning kills  We're starving in a handful of gluttons  We're drowning in their gravy spills    Their tongues are silver forks  There's a lack of wisdom,  You can hear it on their breath  Windego    It's delicate confronting these priests of the golden bull  They preach from the pulpit of the bottom line  Their minds rustle with million dollar bills  You say Silver burns a hole in your pocket  And Gold burns a hole in your soul  Well, uranium burns a hole in forever  It just gets out of control    There was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile  He raised a crooked sixpence to hide a crooked style  He won a crooked vote and smiled a crooked smile  Windego    Their tongues are silver forks  There's a lack of wisdom,   You can hear it on their breath  Windego