Everyday people can always agree on their basic common needs,
And yet, everyone disagrees when zealously believing rich theories.
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At no time in history, did the people want a bloated king going mad in a golden wing.
But, I’ll admit, a dictatorship of the proletariat is starting to have a nice sounding ring.
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Toss out your taxing tea into the harbour,
To break the chains of an ugly dicktator,
Liberating the masses to marching step,
To force updates upon this cruel system.
Strange, where’d I put the money?
I just can’t recall, where did it go?
The cash stash just disappeared,
I'm getting so old, and often forget,
Oh my wandering mind, I worry so.
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I’d best check around my humble home…
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Is it in the corporate stuffed pillows? Hmm, they are fluffy…
Could it be in aristocratic mattress? Oh, to sleep in heaven…
Or stowed in that old billionaire boot? Hoarding in toe reek...
Perhaps a bank jar in cupboard? Unfettered by sweet jams…
Or packing the lobbyist broom closet? Dirty taxing corruption…
Should I check the pantry stock investor? Unregulated shelves…
Behind the gilded monarch photo frame? Bossy celebrity edges…
Maybe bagged soil in the military garden shed? Worming in dirt...
Or hanging in the capitalist sump pit? Moist and green of smell…
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Oh my wandering mind, I really do worry so.
I couldn't find it, so I asked help from a friend,
Unfortunately, I asked the wrong profession.
So, now, I bid you to remember this well,
If you’re really trying find hidden wealth,
Just don’t ever ask a smirking politician,
Because they’ll point at everything else,
Except where the cash has been hidden!
Oh my wandering mind, that 'friend' made me worry so.
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