(B. Walkenhorst)

There's too many twenties, too many fives

Too many numbers in front of our eyes

Too many statistics that nobody reads

Numbers don't lie but numbers don't bleed

Who's counting when it way past plenty

There's too many twenties

There's too much hush money being passed in the joint

Too many bodies hidden behind the decimal point

A number's got a name, a name's got a face

And a face should have a future and a place that's safe

But the chances of that are between slim and skinny

There's too many twenties

Every second sister's got a fighting chance

Of getting hurt at home by a lover's show of hands

And every fourth daughter's gonna cover up and cry

When she comes home from school saying "Mama, Papa, why?"

What are you gonna tell them, just to smile and look pretty and take it?  Huh?

All you fathers looking in your little daughter's eyes

Know that your worst nightmare finds one out of five

Don't worry about cancer, aids, or nothing else

Just worry about the fact there's a man in the house

Till death do us part, man, it do part plenty

There's too many twenties

Tick tock tick tock tick tock

Tick tock tick tock tick tock ten

Somewhere another woman just took it on the chin

Tick tock tick talk is tough

Your sister just had her dignity snuffed

Every second counts, minutes equal many

There's too many twenties

Sound and information are reduced to bites

And the voice of opposition to a stereotype

The numbers are numbing, they're hard to believe

They're blurred by the blood on the balance sheet

Stack the bodies in neat little piles of ten

And hit me

There's too many twenties