Monday, August 4, 2008


There's never enough of it.
More than anyone else,
I need it.
And I need it more and more.

Needing more has made me:
Immature and amateur.
Socialist while socializing.

Who am I to say when?
I'll never have enough.
That's not greed,
I get and get, while you give.

It's pathetic how I run around,
In hopes of making millions.
Without ever investing a dime
In myself.

I don't feel feelings,
Without money.
I do that a lot.
I won't go hungry.

Old man says he knows a way,
Get out of the eight to five.
While I sit here and wonder what,
To do with my spare time.

Contributions are mistakes.
Donations are illogical.
Money is in the air,
Just a bunch of paper.
Zeros in a bank.