Money clips the angels wings,
dollar bills used as gags,
Her intelligence a winged creature,
that in this economy, was only meant to crash.

The coins rattle like the chains
she wore around her neck.
Education was a heaven she longed to gain,
But she was only met with hells debt.

The price of freedom all too high,
the money gets you respect.
Her intelligence wilts like a flower under the sky,
in her grave, wasted, now it sits.

Lessons learned from life alone,
for her,was never enough.
She yearned for something more, a skill or craft to hone,
But "Hey kid, life's tough."

So the money now in bags,
buried in places she would never see,
a secret and more hidden rich wrath
that was all just a product of greed.