The more money I make, the more I want
The more I increase the more I count
Numbers keep piling, so is my greed
Numbers never end, numbers never lie
Anything in numbers could be uncountable
My love for material things have become insatiable
My lust and thirst, unquenchable
When will man ever rest?
I want my paradise here on earth
When will I be free?
I don’t know what I really want
‘Cos the more I get, the more I still want
When will wars end?
‘Cos it doesn’t look like there’s an end
Even though we have a new president
Yesterday, Boko Haram shot ten in North-end
My pastor said the following in church today;
“I’m here to speak sense to your senses,
that’s the essence of my existence.”
And what did he say thereafter?
Poverty is dangerous, make money
If only he knew what love of money did to men
Men have turned to beasts
No love for their fellow men
The battle I fight within me
It is bigger than those on Chicago streets
I’m weary from these toils
When will I ever be free?
Kindly follow me on twitter @tom_olas