[Verse 1] In a Dutch town called Maastricht, ninety-two, Treaty ink still wet, and ministers construct a view: Deficit capped at three percent of what you make, Debt ceiling drawn at sixty, no room to overtake. Five years on they forged a pact to keep it strict— Stability and Growth, the rulebook's benedict, Fines for nations wandering past the dotted line, Though the pact's own architects broke it, time on time. [Chorus] Three for the shortfall, sixty for the pile, Count it, don't disguise it, mile after mile, Who holds the risk, love, tells you where it's filed— Off the books or on it, debt is never mild. [Verse 2] Eurostat, two-thousand-four, drew a clever line: Private partner builds the bridge, assumes the risk of time, Add construction cost to either fork it brings— Drivers scarce or toll lane idle, two distinct risk strings, Then the ledger stays serene, the debt slips out of sight, Treasury gets its asphalt now, pays rent on it each night. Call it a mortgage wearing a magician's cloak, The liability's still breathing though the balance never spoke. [Chorus] Three for the shortfall, sixty for the pile, Count it, don't disguise it, mile after mile, Who holds the risk, love, tells you where it's filed— Off the books or on it, debt is never mild. [Verse 3] October twenty-eighteen, the IMF came clean, Not just what you owe but own—net worth, the fuller scene, Thirty-one nations opened up their vaults and pipes, Roads and buildings, pensions due, every balance type. Britain keeps its own account, Whole of Government style, Counting gilts beside the forests in a single, honest file, Because a nation drowning deep in liabilities May still float on harbors, minerals, timber, land, and fees. [Bridge] Sell the harbor, pocket cash, watch the gross line fall, Check the present value of the rent you'll never call— Price below the future stream? That's fiscal illusion's art: Debt looks smaller on the page while the net worth comes apart. Run the test on every deal from Part Two to Part Seven, A bargain sale of crown-held pearls counts cheaper, never even. [Chorus] Three for the shortfall, sixty for the pile, Count it, don't disguise it, mile after mile, Who holds the risk, love, tells you where it's filed— Off the books or on it, debt is never mild. [Outro] Count the full account, not the half you'd rather see, Gross is just a shadow of a nation's true decree, From Tudor crown to tollway, the ledger holds the plot— If it's owed tomorrow, it's debt, whether booked or not.
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