Old, battered building, ready to condemn
High-valued property, expensive piece of land
Half-filled with tenants, all poor on welfare
No heat or electricity, and slumlord doesn't care
Slumlord doesn't care, slumlord doesn't care
Millions in insurance covers the wrecked lot
And a week till it's condemned is all slumlord's got
He enters the basement with three gallons of gas
And four hours later, there's nothing left but ash
Slumlord doesn't care, slumlord doesn't care
The newpaper's all read, "forty die in the blaze"
Slumlord now thinks that crime really pays
And two years later, a skyscraper appears
With a plaque in the memory of the forty that died here
Slumlord doesn't care, slumlord doesn't care