Hey!
Listen up, everyone!
World, pay attention!
Homeless and heiress alike,
Haves and have-nots,
Listen and learn.
Welcome to class, students.
I’ve a question for you
Put to music.
Let me sing it for you.
Why should I worry
About trouble
From those rich dogs,
Jaws snapping at my heels?
They put their trust
In their thick wallets,
Pleased and proud
Of their portfolios.
But who can buy back
A lost life,
Bribing God
For a few more years
Or even a single day,
Much less an endless life,
Skipping a trip
To the cemetery?
Everyone dies,
Leaving everything behind.
The only long-term home they have
Is the grave,
Superstars included.
The wealthy are no better off
Than stray cats
Dying in dirty alleys.
Death is the destination
Of self-trusting fools
And their followers,
Like lemmings plunging headfirst
Together
Over death’s cliff.
(The morning light
Will tell its different story
Of the good and the kind.)
Those voracious consumers
Will themselves be consumed
By a six-foot hole in the ground.
(But that won’t be
My final destination.
God will snatch me
From death’s icy grip
And take me home.)
So stop with the big eyes,
Ogling the rich
And their pricy toys,
None of which will fit
In their coffins.
The dead won’t clap for them.
They think they’ve got it good
While they still breathe
And have no shortage of fawning
Flatterers.
But their ghosts
Will gather with their ancestors
In the land
Of endless dark.
They party and parade
Down the road to death —
A blithe band of the terminally stupid.