What's it really matter
and who am I to speak?
The riches to the rich,
and shadows for the meek
and for the kind, there's nothing;
so the hustlers disagree.
I should be more fierce;
put some extra meat on me.
I ahould study harder;
I should Ace more tests;
I should snap my backbone
whilst I'm snapping naive necks.
Nothing lasts forever,
not shame or sin or hell;
so I really shouldn't worry
what kind of lies I tell,
what stink that I exude,
as long as life is swell.
I could be a pig.
Godless, ever hungry;
wallow in my filth
despite upsetting others.
I should be despised.
Striking others with my scowl;
eerie with it's dripping
drops of sour sauce.
But I'm not really anything.
I am but a noble,
honest man with values
who can manage to sustain
what I have and what I need
earn the money so I can feed
the unfit who depend on me
who, no doubt, will someday die.
