[Intro]
[Floor toms tap a seven-beat bow while anvils answer in straight four.]

Gold shoes cross the marble seam.
Cameras wake inside the gleam.
One beat slips. The room agrees:
Count the price of bending knees.

[Verse 1]
Here comes the banker, polished black,
With lawyers at his back.
He praised free markets yesterday;
Tonight he kneels to clear the way.
Here comes the owner of the feed,
Who calls dependence "consumer need."
He lowers half an inch too late--
A lobbyist corrects his weight.

[Verse 2]
Here comes the network executive,
He bends beneath the gilded seal,
Then calls the posture "keeping real."
The platform baron joins the row,
His moderation standards low.
Each man insists his spine is free;
The orchestra shifts to 7/8 on three.

[Pre-Chorus]
One beat missing--shift your feet.
Smile when power takes its seat.
Lose the measure, lose the room.
Bend before the contract blooms.

[Chorus]
Billion dollar knees bend low
When the presidential cameras glow.
Billion dollar backs don't break--
They bow for access, profit, stake.
Billion dollar knees agree:
"Call submission strategy."

[Verse 3]
A waiter hears them trade the terms:
Tax relief and weaker firms,
Private channels, public land,
Labor rules reduced by hand.
The glasses chime like prison links;
No one pauses, no one thinks.
A donor laughs, "We own the risk."
A worker's name leaves the benefits list.

[Verse 4]
Outside, soaked through coat and sleeve,
A warehouse picker cannot leave.
Her scanner tracks the minutes lost;
No ballroom guest will name that cost.
She sees the bowing line inside
And lifts her aching wrist with pride:
"My knees have bent to lift your freight.
They will not bend to bless your state."

[Pre-Chorus]
One beat missing--hear it land.
Rain and boots replace the band.
Lose the worker, lose the ground.
No amount can mute that sound.

[Chorus]
Billion dollar knees bend low
When the presidential cameras glow.
Billion dollar backs don't break--
They bow for access, profit, stake.
Billion dollar knees agree:
"Call submission strategy."

[Drum Break]
[Floor toms and anvils alternate seven and eight beats while the crowd outside stamps a steady four.]

[Bridge]
They call it prudence.
They call it tact.
They call the kneeling
A neutral act.

[Breakdown]
Down--
For the contract.
Down--
For the rate.

[Final Chorus]
Billion dollar knees bend low,
But the cameras capture what they show.
Billion dollar backs may claim
They only leaned to guard the game.
Billion dollar knees reveal
How private fear becomes a deal.

[Outro]
The 7/8 measure fails to hold.
Four boots answer through the cold.
The chain-glass rhythm cracks in two.
The bowed line waits for what comes through.