We are each a servant to someone;
a master that gives instructions;
one who commands, what’s to be done
often leading to corruptions.
Some of us serve the master called Pride;
its seems that we never have enough;
placing the interests of all others aside;
ignoring all critiques and rebuff.
Pride hands us off to his friend, Greed;
and there is never any limit for him;
No longer is desire at all about need;
it’s predicated, all on Greed’s whim.
Like squirrels storing nuts for the winter;
most think they won’t have enough;
compared to us; the squirrel’s a beginner;
we always expect times to be tough.
For the servants of Greed, money is King;
and he sits on a throne of pure gold;
for money can buy anyone or anything;
its power, all the greedy behold.
Those who worship at the throne of Greed;
know power and wealth are the same;
either one or the other will answer their need;
for neither rich, nor powerful get blame.
Those who lack either, depend on their Lord;
for they are least, in this place of their birth;
Pride and Greed will fall on their sword;
and the least of all will inherit the earth.