You're looking at my Gucci bag
And I know what you think
That my preoccupation with material things
Just really stinks

But let me tell you mister, walk a mile in my shoes
And then you'd understand the bourgeois blues

You think I don't know what hunger means, man
I had to drop ten pounds on the Appedrine diet plan
And if that don't sound bad enough
Just try finding a place for all this extra stuff

When have they given a federal grant
For fighting depression among the affluent?
And what more deprived minority,
In a world full of Chevys, a Mercedes?

I've had to wear my Halston twice
My tennis game is not too nice
So when you look at me with a snide eye
Think "there but for the grace of God, go I"