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COUNT YOURSELF LUCKY
Poverty stressful everyone happy rich says you gotta be popular
climb outer d’ditch. Popular, sweet as sugar can be, but, for me,
a few high denomination bills, take the thrill off those pills,
release me from all ills… sweeter than sugar can ever be dollar bills.
In this perfidious world, everyone happy. Not. Happy if, and only if, your credit good, steady income in the blood stream. Y’know just what I mean?
Now true religion tell me, to your own goodself be true, and that’s the crazy thing that I and I in-tend t’do. Talk to the poor man, show him how rise, don’t trust nothing, avoid the old disguise.
Nothing of youself dont see? With your own two eyes, be they green or brown or blue or even flecked with a touch of the wise.
Kurdish poet and princess.
