They tell us that we're savages who haven't got a hope
We're burning in the furnaces
We're choking at the smoke
They say we haven't got a choice
Refuse to recognize our voice
Yet they enjoy commissions, from the proceeds of the joke

Those butterfly boys at play with their toys
Stinging like bees
Itching like fleas
Butterfly boys, you got the toys
You got the breeze
We caught the freeze
Butterfly boys give us a break
We got the groceries you, got the cake

They tell us that we're savages
Who cannot understand
We're sailing on a sinking ship
We're swimming in the sand
They put their fingers in their ears
Refuse to recognize our fears
And fly off to Jamaica
When we call them underhand

Those butterfly boys at play with their toys
Stinging like bees
Itching like fleas
Butterfly boys, you got the toys
You got the breeze
We caught the freeze
Butterfly boys give us a break
We got the groceries you, got the cake

Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys
Butterfly boys