If the pay were enough,
Would you give up a dream?
What sum needed to snuff
So they no longer gleam?
A trade made for dollars,
Would the price be too high?
Your soul heard to holler,
“Slowly watch your heart die.”
Dreams seen as just vapor,
Quickly turned into smoke,
Exchanged for the paper,
That weighs down like a yoke.
A slave now to money,
You can’t dare more to dream,
And as you grow wealthy,
You can hear your heart scream.
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