Every mouse, rat, rodent and I

We have an opinion about a rat race

We believe that it is the need of the flour

That keeps us riding on the needs of the hour

We keep running on the maze, haze and you name it rat race

Every mouse, rat, rodent and I

We are earthly skins, bins and pins for your magnanimous lives

We are skinned, binned, pinned and finned by your forces

Your forces are ulterior to the interior of the exterior of your intentions

You carve money out of the mist, fist, wrist, heist and at last

We win the rat race, you win the money chains

We build the palaces, you embalm your body and mind over it

Poles apart, lives apart, parts apart, know that we know not to race this time

We still know what we are, who we are and what we have?

Do you know anything other than our skin, sin and your coins?