Chains of Freedom

February 4, 2008
By Angela Wheeler, Berlin, MA

The chains I wear are light as air
I never even feel them there
I carry on with my affairs
So debonair--
The Devil may care
But such is the life of a blooming heir:
A millionaire
The laissez-faire.
They say my morals are in disrepair
But I can’t be as bad as them out there
The proletaire in their clothes threadbare
Eating such bland fare from earthenware
How I pity them, I do declare
Slaving as they are on only prayer.
Their days are filled with work and care
And they seem entirely unaware
Of how life can just be so unfair
Oh I can’t imagine such despair--
But now I’ve got to be somewhere:
To sit upon my gilded chair
To flaunt my snares with brilliant flair
To glitter and drink and dance and swear
And such is the good life of one so fair.

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