Welcome to the World of Wealth,
where life is such a wonderful thing,
where everything revolves around the pennies in your pocket,
and how many notes you've got in your wallet.

When you wake up in the morning with your wife,
from your sweetly scented Slumberland life,
the instant smile cracks your face,
as you look in the mirror at your gold encrusted teeth.

The wife struggles to move, weighed down with gold and silver.
She crawls to the bathroom,
for a piping hot shower using sweetly scented soap,
she sits her fat, creased arse on the teak toilet seat,
and instantly redecorates the bathroom, in a pleasant shade of brown.

Work beckons, you answer it's call.
In your plush office block, so shiny and tall.
But you never look back, you never look back, Mr. Money,
at the poor fools kissing your feet,
whose stomachs yearn for that forgotten taste of meat.

With that sly grin of power,
you shower them with gifts from the world of wealth.
The scraps off your plate, the rags off your back,
the change from your well worn pocket.

You collect your offspring from the private school,
and snigger together at the comprehensive fools.
His uniform gleams, his textbooks are neat,
and he's already booked his parliamentary seat.

But you're a slave driver, Mr. Money.
Living in your world of milk and honey.
Living in your world of wealth.
But you never look back, you never look back, Mr. Money.

© Edward ian Armchair 2002