We wear prices to work,
The cost of being a success or failure.
The confident strut to the sixth floor,
In Jimmy choos and Hermes.
You pass by her, cowering at the elevator door.
In thin soled Bidcos and patched lesu.
The tea lady you don't really notice.
Her pale skin matched the dust on the window panes.
Brought on from watching the world pass by in a blur.
She pushed the button for the ground floor and watched the walking label go to the top.

We wear prices to church.
Our bible and hymn book easily preserved from the top shelf.
Unworn from weekly visits to the Holy place.
The priest wants a new house,
Your neighbor needs a car,
You need to eat more.

We wear prices to a match.
Will our country qualify this time round? Or is it just a farce?
Buy a ticket, buy a drink.
This establishment must see many a buck.

We let prices define us,
We are bought for a song and sell each other out.
Mother said set the right price,
And so i stand at the streets,
waiting for someone to pay my worth.