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Money

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Silver, gold and jewels,
Is that all we care for?
I remember when I was younger,
That this was all of our hunger.
Even now, as I grow old,
It is not money’s hold,
But the hold of society that grows weaker,
Getting bleaker and bleaker.
The civilization in which we have,
Is actually pathetically sad,
When it’s all based on profit,
it seems like we’ve all lost it.
We’re a bunch of mad men,
Running about like a crazed bull.
Stomping and pushing for a way to get the prize.
The prize in which is only money.
No longer is it about family and kin,
No, no, we are not afraid to sin,
We no longer fear the wrath of god,
It’s only the wrath of man.
Man in which was made in god’s image,
Which would mean god was just as sinful as us.
Well, I guess there is no one in which we can trust.
When were all fighting for money.
To us, money is like a salvation.
Like the honey of a bee’s creation.
Yet, unlike bee’s, whom wouldn’t fight.
We do day and night.
In a bank,
The teller sits,
Incomes a man,
With a knife at hand.
It’s all about money.
To him money is life,
And money is what brought the knife,
To the throat of the teller.
Money is what killed us all.





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