Greed
Sam
Desperate lies, and homeless cries,
From the mouth of those that never see the sky
And spend their days without a bit,
of the feasts we throw away so we'll feel slim or fit,
And then they die, too young to see,
The world, as breaking your chains don't make you free,
But I'm not saying that I've seen,
The worst, the darkness at the ocean's deep,
They spend their days on the ocean floor, with little the air that they need to breathe,
We spend our days asking for more, and instead of blood, wealth we bleed,
We have homes ten times their size, always eyes on the prize,
But never reach it, just like tomorrow, and in our wealth, we still feel sorrow,
I'm broke, says the rich man as he refuses a tip,
To the waitress who can't afford a drip,
Of the ocean of his opportunity and gold
And the rich man pretends it's not cold,
To not lend a single, small penny,
To the ones that have to wallow in envy,
But I'm not expecting to make a change,
For all the rich to finally refrain,
From selfishness, greed, and petty cash,
No, my reader, they won't share their stash.