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RICH MAN’S PARADISE
DAVE THE POET

In my soul, Lives a dream
Often imagined, Rarely seen
From high they preach, And falsely teach
It’s all there, Right out of reach
The few who own, The golden cups
Share little to drink, With the rest of us
Smart enough, To know something’s wrong
A crowd starts to hum, The same song
When the music starts, It’s a beautiful thing
In the eye of the storm, The Angels sing
As the monkeys walk a tightrope, Made of black ice
I’m a poor boy, Living in a rich man’s paradise

As the wolves of Wall Street
Chased the rabbits, Out of the park
Lights came on, After dark
For a split second, Everyone could see
We the people, Are the feast
Rockets and rainbows, In the belly of the beast
Those who shed no blood, Always start the wars
Ask the disease, If it needs a cure
In God we trust, The holy water is pure
Something has to change, Look into a baby’s eyes
As the monkeys walk a tightrope, Made of black ice
I’m a poor boy, Living in a rich man’s paradise

Ready to strike, Left uncaged, Ravenous hunger, Liquid rage
Behind the smoke and mirrors, Game’s the same
We fight to go, Where we’ve never been
A place where love is beautiful, Not a sin
For this world, To live in peace
Love must replace, Power and greed
Humanity, Has a master plan
Where life is cherished, Like holy land
You alone, Know your disguise
As the monkeys walk a tightrope, Made of black ice
I’m a poor boy, Living in a rich man’s paradise