What happens to the mediocre man in an opposite world
Where the poor are rich
And rich are poor
Where the tables turn and opposite ends flip
For man always cries for the poor and dirtied souls
Or envies the affluent and golden kings
But who cares for the man halfway there
Who stands at the midpoint between the rich and impoverished
For the sad truth is, that when a sealed jar of water is flipped on its cap
The Bottom becomes Top
And the Top becomes Bottom
But the water remains where it had always been before
Never changing any better nor worse
No one cries for the mediocre man