Stay low for the cause;
That’s how you stay true.
History says the common man was you.
You ate pain and out came gold,
Did you regret the struggle as you grew old?

Keep your voice down.
The masses might hear,
Of words spoken that sound,
Like a rich man grows near.

Show them gold is for fools.
Pity the greediest men.
Though if you had their tools,
Could you have been?

Reclusive you lived, so lonely you died.
It’s been seen before, but by which design?
Fate that curses genius to misery;
Or pride that yearns for no legacy?

Oh why do we slave over the gift?
What a twisted sense of glamour!
Bring me the fossilized tears,
I must know the taste!
Was it the struggle that made you great?