Money: A Poem

The spectre of unhappiness preys on the souls of the innocent lambs, stripped of their optimism and choked by plastic wrap, factory-made destinies, artificial and repeated with endless precision.

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Part I

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I dream of hope, I am a cog in the machine
I dream of happiness, I am a cog in the machine
I dream of freedom, I am a cog in the machine
I dream of change, I am a cog in the machine

I cannot change anything, for I am a cog in the machine
I cannot be free, for I am a cog in the machine
I cannot be happy, for I am a cog in the machine
I no longer have hope. For I am a cog in the machine

I no longer dream.
I am a cog in the machine. I am a cog in the machine.

Part II

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Money
makes Money
makes Money makes Money
makes Money makes Money makes Money
makes Money makes Money makes Money makes Money
makes Money makes Money makes Money makes Money makes Money

Pay the bills, Pay the debt, Repeat

Money
makes Money
makes Money makes Money
makes Money makes Money makes Money
makes Money makes Money makes Money makes Money
makes Money makes Money makes Money makes Money makes Money

Part III

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George and Abraham were friends that she could trust
Thomas was often never seen
Alexander always knew she liked Andrew better
Ulysses tried hard to make her happy

But they all knew her heart was with Benjamin

Part IV

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I find happiness at the bottom of a bottle
To forget is to remember the innocence
To remember is to be crushed beneath the weight of life
Bliss is better than responsibility

To be crushed every morning and give up every night
To be dragged along by green paradise and broken promises
To chase paper just to burn it to briefly escape
To remember for a moment how it used to feel before

The room is spinning, the world is spinning
The sun rises and falls, and the sun is still spinning
From one hand to another, the drugs keep winning
Wave the white flag now, tonight we're winning

I sold my soul and then I bought it back
I bought my soul and then I sold out
They praise my green parades
But they look straight through me

Here's a toast to nobody in particular

Part V

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There are two dogs fighting
They used to be friends
They used to be neighbors
They used to be brothers

Once one dies, he will be eaten by the other
And the winner will be the ruler of the world
May the watching sheep pray the kinder one wins