Slaves to the queens’ head ransom notes.
Addiction to this man-made mass
psychological condition. A master class societal prison.
Bleeding to get just a pocketful of affection,
Diamonds don't buy that sort of attention.
Tears fall to make another deposit
into the bank of life withdrawals.
Shakes, sweating red.
Squealing to the piggybank,
Feed my head with coins.
Rule me, Fill the kitty.
It helps to make life feel less pithy.
Another withdrawal
at the automated teller machine
of apathy and misery.
Why? The high life
Why? Penthouse side show and gold-plated sigh.
Slaves to this way of life. We tie off our arms,
injecting another hit of golden coins.
Just to keep going, never stopping.
All for a chance at a slice of millionaire cake,
with gold leaf topping, and a dusting of silver rain.
Flushed faces, flushing feelings down the drain.
Slaves to money tree of life.
An ever-dwindling supply.
We are told to buy low sell high.
Save, when we don't have enough to survive,
but those that thrive, cheat and lie
can print an ever-lasting supply
at the click of a mouse.
Numbers on a computer screen,
could buy them a second or third house.
When our homeless are begging for a safe space,
to rest their heads for a night.
You make their spaces smaller, fitted with barriers instead.
All it buys is misery, it makes you
feel more than just a little sicker.
Quick get a fix, someone apply a drip,
vital signs are starting to flicker.
Endemic, end days. panic,
The epidemic is ever-growing.
Strive to find a vein to get those deposits flowing.
Our money tree seeds have been snorted away.
Another round of shots.
Now arms are tied and only provided
to those whose morality lies in the gutter.
So now arms and lies, are the only ways
to fund our highs
and now a lot of lives will be cut a lot shorter
so that the rich can thrive.
Thanks for reading
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