I walk past the poor every day
The ones that ask me for money
For the change
That I hear jangling in my ears long after I walk away
Money comes to me like a slip of paper
A white page
Stateing times and dates and hours spent
In the pursuit of happiness
Because that's how I feel when I get my wage
Like the hours I spent didn’t just waste away.
The jingle of my work, my age
Is what I pour into that man’s cup
It might be fifty cents
But it’s really six minutes
It might be six minutes
But it’s part of what I earned with my time.
Money is a sense of safety
A paper cushion
In my back pocket
That protects me from them.
A buffer of light green
Silver, copper, gold
That speaks of books
And travel
And new worlds
So I pour my dreams into that man's cup.
Maybe I can share my dream with him
Maybe the money
Will help him
In a way that it helps me
Maybe he will feel safer, warmer,  happier
With my hopes jangling in his pocket.
It may be fifty cents.
But it was still money
My money
That isn’t gaining me anything
Except a lightness in my pocket
And a quiet evaluation of where it can take me.
Money controls me
Just as much as I control it.
As I tip the coins
As they fall
I can hear them
They keep me going for another six minutes, then another six, then another.
That fifty cents,
Screams at me
Power, effort, time.
I want to think that money is good
That the people who get it are
But I see how I spend
How he spends
How she spends
And I think that the dreams that money whispers are for adults
And maybe I have to truly be an adult to know
That it’s not what my money does to me, but what I do
To those without.
My coins get caressed in his hands
***** in a  way
That’s so  different than mine
God bless
He whispers, and I think of the coins
That have that
Exact
phrase stamped on them.
Money should be used in Thomas Jefferson’s say:
To promote happiness in a responsible way
Because the tail of the devil must be dipped in the stuff
The economics of everyday making decisions tough
I can feel the relief it gives me to part with the money
But I calculate the loss
The casual toss
Of the money,
The money
That represents so much
Good
And so much hope.

I sold you my dreams tonight,
That was me hiding in another life,
Somewhere between worthless and priceless,
Eyelids twitch as the torment unravels,
Sleep well and deep,
Fall and fly; run and hide,

Last night you bought my past,
Stories seem so small and distant,
The characters all ghosts of a passing age,
Lost to a dazed fading mind,
Don’t pity me here,
Old stories; float away,

Tomorrow I will sell you my hopes,
Hold them gently; they crush easily,
That was me hoping for the light of day,
Fists clenched and blinded,
Embrace my future,
Open eyes; arms wide,

My heart is yours; it always has been,
Not sold but given away, (maybe thrown)
Wrap it up to keep it warm and safe,
My gift to you on credit,
Unconditional yet fragile,
Buy now; pay later.

Hello Sir,
how are you today?
We can offer you
a contract for life,
it's called
Pay As You Die.

You simply pay
in days, weeks and months,
7 days per week
or up to 31 days per month.
Simple as that.

You can also pay in advance:
365 or 366 days per year,
that's not a lot
taking under consideration
amount of time
you'll need to prepare yourself to die.

Also we can, for free,
help you to speed the things up,
you can gain a lot!

Let me know, please
are you okay with this?

Why not?

Skin heating up
Body burning
The pain is hard to endure
But you need the money
So you work
And keep your mouth shut

Your lips turned blue
The freezer too cold
Your shivers are violent
But you have to get it done
You have other stuff to do

People are upset
You frantically try to help
Help them, then back to work
But they make it difficult
So you call your manager
To ensure their needs are met

Your boss is angry
And takes it out on you
Why? You ask, but you don't know
You only do your job
So you can pay your bills
Because your living a life that just isn't free

Work all day
And work all night
Your tired
And you ache
But you have bills
So you'll do the work for the pay

By Arcassin Burnham

I was so young and dumb,
You we're so young and dumb,
Baby girl stays quiet In her blue jeans,
The sun will come up again,
While laying in each others arms,
Baby girl stays quiet her in blue jeans,
I would find a good part of the day to spend with you in,
We'd have beauty on the weekend,
And faith on Sunday,
By all means,
Baby girl stays quiet her blue jeans,
Those stems must taste wonderful,
Never cried for anyone as wonderful as you,
When you put some shorts on and found
Another in your plans of creed.


http://arcassin.blogspot.com/p/l-e-g-e-t-unrealeased-ep.html