In short, this is really, really hard.
Stretching out the dollars too the bitter end.
Throw me a financial bone, heaven forfend.
Having to buy 7 dollar shoes at K-Mart.
Petrol prices are sky high, this doesn’t help me.
I’ve had to starve my car of vital fluids, poor little Camry.
If I could quit smoking, I’d have a few extra dollars.
But it’s very hard, and what’s not helping is the anti-smoking shock-collar!
Luckily I’ve got a car that I could sell.
If anyone wants it, give me a bell.
About 1500 dollars I think it would go for.
If I was feeling greedy, I’d ask for more.
Money, money money, as ABBA so rightly said,
Is a big hunk of slavery, wrapped up in a straitjacket.
I sincerely hope that the apocalypse comes soon.
So I don’t have to worry about buying the new iPhone.
I’d like to swap lives with a high flying Wall Street banker.
Not for the huge amount of money I’d instantly get.
But for the joy of watching them squirm around in their pockets in line at McDonalds.
They don’t need their five hundred thousand dollar bonuses, they just need a good hug and to be told “slow down, crazypants”.
Okay, that last paragraph didn’t really rhyme.
But I aint got the money so I aint got the time.
No time to rhyme, getting out of poetry quite soon.
I was told if I keep doing poetry, I’ll end up with a nasty, bloody knife-wound.