---

"It's difficult. It's very tough",
I said to the man who'd been sleeping rough,
"To sit within a fragrant breeze,
All among the nodding trees
That hang heavy with their stuff".

He threw his arms around my neck.
He brushed the tear from my cheek
And held my soft white hand.
He was an understanding man
And he did not even barely hardly speak.

Easy money...
Rain it down on the wife and the kids,
Rain it down on the house where we live,
Rain until you got nothing left to give
And rain that ever-loving stuff down on me.

All the things for which my heart yearns
Gives joy in diminishing returns.
He kissed me on the mouth,
His hands, they headed south
And my cheek, it burned.

Money, man, it is a bitch.
The poor, they spoil it for the rich
With my face pressed in the clover.
I wondered when this would be over.
And at home we are all so guilty-sad.

Easy money...
Pour it down the open drain,
Pour it all through my veins,
Pour it down, yeah, let it rain
And pour that ever-loving stuff down on me.

Now, I'm sitting pretty down on the bank.
Life shuffles past at a low interest rate
In the money-coloured meadows,
And all the interesting shadows,
They leap up, then dissipate.

Easy money...
Easy money...
Easy money...
Rain it down on the wife and the kids,
Rain it down on the house where we live,
Rain it down until you got nothing left to give
And rain that ever-loving stuff down on me.

---

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