Wallow In The Greed

If you could know how much I make, I'm sure to see you blush! To reap the stipend that I do Will mean, therefore, I look at you From high above in my success And say to you, 'Poor thing, God bless.' The greedy bastard that I am - I love to drown in bling; Unlike you – so bloody poor, and Picking coins up off the floor! But sorry mate, I'm not to blame – The fact your bank account is lame! Come and see my flashy car Awash inside with leather; I saw the battered wreck you drive, Spewing out its oily smog! Your banger, friend, is such a dog, Clanking out its dialogue. I shall die in gleaming wealth, Floating out in gentle stealth – Having bought a glowing health. As for you, my hard-up mate, You'll fade away a slave to fate, Surviving on the welfare state. Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009 Greed, greed, greed, greed Greed, greed, feed the greed.