Like Everyone Else

You may be the wealthiest one in the town And that in itself a big claim to renown But to the scythe of the reaper you too have to fall For you too have been born to die after all. Of singing your praises some can't seem to tire And you are a person so many admire But the praises of others can go to one's head Whoever first said that a truth surely said. Your children in a high class boarding school enjoying the privileged life And you buy a new mercedes every year for your wife You have achieved the dream you set out to pursue That money speaks every language as always is true. In the wealthy suburb where you do reside The home gardens always flowering the tree lined streets are wide In your side of town a poor person one never meet They live poor and hungry on Poverty Street. With your life's achievements don't get carried away For success swells the ego as some are known to say Death makes us all equals the Reaper doesn't lie And like everyone else you were born to die.