Steve Goodman - Luxury's Lap lyrics

How does it feel to be Sittin' in luxury's lap Where the money tree grows And the champagne is always on tap Tell me how does it feel to be breathing That rarefied air Way up at the level where only The devil may care Where those who have and Those who have so much Are all standing in line to meet The man with the Midas touch From the bottom of the valley They run to the top of the heap With lots of bourbon and valium To put the sad winners to sleep Oh those poor rich people They have to find a reason for Every thing they do Oh those poor rich people All of that green just makes them blue So they juggle the books and Redistribute the wealth But all of that juggling is Hazardous to your health When the ashtrays are full We'll sell the car for scrap It's one more tax shelter in Downtown luxury's lap