Oh the bright young man in the tight-buttoned suit The light beams out from capped smiles to the shines On their lick-spittle books Oh these sharp young sparks with their fresh rosettes Yeh, the artful ways that they promise the earth What they won't promise we don't know yet. They say they're build - and shaping society But we know they're just saving for their own Anything goes: look at them run. Come from every side, noses Pinocchio clean; Lock in synchromesh, oil the wheels and the gears And the final goal is a cabinet seat... In the trappings of power, the presumption to speak For the man in the street. Once they move in, they're in for good; Yeh, once they get that bed made it's a Jobs for the boys: look at them run. There's just one thing none of us should forget: A political man is just in it for the power Sure, some start out as idealists - Pretty soon they all cop for ideal careers and The politicians fight it out on the couning tower But they all agree not to rock the boat.