I awoke this morning,
With a frown on my face,
And I pleaded for grace,
For my desires were base.

Throughout the day, I try to keep pace.
I fumble for energy, for drive.
Yet, although I care and pray and strive,
I do not feel anymore alive.

Into worlds of dream I dive,
And I find endless treasure:
Seas of gems beyond measure,
Fields for passionate leisure.

But I'm stolen from my pleasure.

The alarm sounds,
Samples fall to the ground,
My head pounds,
I'm wound,
Bound,
By voices around,
Telling me where Wisdom's found.
Screaming,
"Run, here comes Poverty's hound!"

I see the mayor of the town,
A woman in a pretty gown,
A gleaming angel falling down...

And I wonder:
Are they right, or are they just loud?