|
|
It's so hard to make a few dollars
To put in a poor man's hand
Greed gripping us all by the collar
Selfishness the law of the land
You want to build the kind of a shelter
That keeps the snow and rain outside
They turn the heat up until you swelter
They stand you up against a tide
The child's wish for gingerbread mansion
Is fulfilled and all applaud
The man's wish for a drifter's bed's ransom
Is unfrilled and seen as odd
They might tell you the wisher is crazy
Put his life through such a strain
Soon it gets so God damn uneasy
Only thinks of his own gain
Lunatic or heretic
Take your pick and be done with it
Some slick trick to impress a chick
Some kickback that he can't admit
It's too much with such a big supper
Keep it all within the clan
And when done the ton that's left over
Straight to the garbage can
It's too dumb to think that abundance
Only has a happy side
For each smiling ray of the sun it's
One more tear that's cried
No fun in possessing a fortune
No one is there to see
No sign of what's left of emotion
Of love dismembered free
All out of excuses for living
Spread out the misery
Pay no regard to misgiving
Betray the memory
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| © 2011. Words and music by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.
|
No comments:
Post a Comment