Ideas are products
People believe anything
I supply their desire
Pass me cash and I’ll make programs from trash
I mint miracles that last a month
Pay extra and you might get more
Want to burn down the house?
Might find you fire for hire yet
Ghosts may prove more articulate;
They’ll say all you crave with truths from the grave
Want to know how I learned this trade?
I’ll pitch a story like a Mafia man made
Get debts to disappear, gold turn brass
I’m your surgeon without a scalpel
To see my fees your story, please
History is what survives what we make up
Great successes begin tall tales
I’ll spin and spin until you win
Just let me write the finish line