deeds done in darkness

Fonseca plays the shell-game to the stars
obscuring troves of their ill-gotten loot
they'd show your assets were all earned on Mars
if that would render the tax-burden moot
let legislatures try to levy tax
the A-list deftly duck out on their share
the burden falls upon the Workers' backs
and never on the robber-baron's heir
a billion's quickly hidden overseas
but those who toil to eat can't catch a break
their nest eggs stunted by their bankers' fees
while One Percenters scold 'let them eat cake!'
the game's been rigged by those who drew the board
all profits skimmed into the bankers' hoard