You are going no place,
'Course, if you are happy with where that is,
Then turn away your face,
Why would you be reading this anyway?
'Cept, that this gives you joy!
Now my mind is blown, is it possible,
Poetry's not just for the sad and coy,
That a life well-lived can self-reflect, too,
Step out its reverie?
Or is it more that the mind can't avoid,
One's own lack of money?
And there it is,
Though some say it's needed,
I wouldn't miss that dirty currency,
That leaves all forms of freedom impeded.