We work as if to vanquish sin, delight
In pay day, reign the ego boosting bills
The hours nine to five grow tired and gripe,
Our sense of worth built firm in green and thrills

A victory deserves a toast, so raise
Your glass and cheer! But don't you dare talk ill
Of men who seek the outside bench, no place
To sleep, ignored by wealthy launderers who'll

Deny the beggar hundred cents yet blow
One hundred bucks to keep their hair due kempt
If love were space then that's how far I'd go
Myself, to mourn the late compassion's sense

It's true: they may be rich upon retire
But who will hold them when their time expires?