Your weakness shows like broken bones
You are not this

Struggle to feel anything
This sorrow is your own

Devoid of concern for this world
For anything outside wealth

Growth of countless funds defines your being
Your existence is passionless

Complacent is the fool
Comfort is a tragedy
Mastering mediocrity
Your pleasure lies in labor
Concept of well-being
Skewed by anguish
Lost

So they linger within their sorrow
Lust for labor
Fulfilled by greed

Nothing but a pay stub
To show for life wasted on avarice

They are so stuck
Here in their roles
Capitalists
Bound in gold chains

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