I see grains of white, brown coffee, too
But not for me, and not for you
And I think to myself, what a Bloombergish world
I see signs upon Dunkin Donuts’ shelves
“You will have to pour sugar for yourselves”
And I say to myself, what a Bloombergish world
The colors of a rainstorm . . . the gloom that clouds the morn
And also on the faces . . . of customers forlorn
I see friends shaking heads, with their faces askew
They’re really saying, Bloomberg adieu
I hear adults cry . . . words of hate
And there’s more to come from the Nanny State
And I think to myself, what a Bloombergish world