In the Spring of my youth,
Succes was defined
As an excess of moolah
In large banks confined.
Stocks and bonds, gems and cash -
Greedy and powerful,
The rich hoarded their stash
But of taxes were fearful.
They bought up the meadows,
Built McMansions and pools,
And casinos in ghettos -
Those arrogant fools
Now the rich have it all,
While the ninety-nine percent,
To the wealthy in thrall,
Are camping in tents.
We pay your taxes
That repair the roads
Where you drive your Lexus's
You odious toads.
It's not that we evy
Your jewels and jade;
It is not jealousy
That's fueling our rage.
We just want a chance
For a good-paying job,
So we've taken a stance
We're not a lawless mob.
All we want is some hope
For some green in our lives,
In a future not remote
Where the economy thrives.
Now in my middle age,
I know they were wrong -
Huge money is a cage
Though it can make you strong.
But that strength is a myth -
It will not save you.
When you come to the end
You can't take it with you.
So invest in the good,
The decent, the pride
Of a life well-lived
Let that be your guide.
