Lyrics:

Roger Creager, Kyle Hutton





61st floor way downtown,

From cubicle 423

You can't see what's coming down.

The mail lady brings a pink slip

And an empty box for my desk.

Says, 'Pack what you brought leave us the rest.'

Down in the parking garage I hope my truck starts again When the CEO passes me in his new Mercedes Benz.

He's smoking on a Cuban

While mine blows out the tailpipe.

Some get rich while the rest get by.



Chorus

The rich keep getting richer, but I keep staying poor.

I'm working this overtime to help event the score.

It feels like I'm working towards the welfare line,

But someday I'll get mine.



The big boss man and his jolly pirate crew

Were watching and planning

And plotting to get away with the loot.

So clever and so quiet,

Wall Street never heard a sound.



They grabbed the last piece of gold as the ship went down. Now there's handcuffs jangling against a Rolex watch

And a squad car at the palace there to chauffeur him off. But, you know,

I'll bet some poor working stiff gets stuck serving the time Cause some get rich while the rest get by.



Chorus



I met up with old Saint Peter there

At the Great Pearly Gates.

He told my old boss in front of me,

'Sir you'll have to wait.'

Then he waved me on through and he winked his eye.

He told me, 'Some get rich while the rest get by.'