People watch others, but look out for themselves
They look down on people, from a high shelf
A latitude of selfishness, where people are pages
The rich are poor in morals, as the poor are put in cages.
Books teach you much, life will teach you more
The bottom of the shelf is reserved for the poor.
Snobbery appears to me, a certain kind of wrong
Where the books on the right, there underneath…
The pages are torn, each chapter is grief.
People are books, and like them we will rot
You think you have it bad; the poor are worse off
I can read people well; I know how they work.
To untie a knot, you don’t have to be smart
But untangle their thoughts from this being taught.
Pluck up the courage, use your brain, it’s an art.
I cannot draw well, but from height I once fell
Now I don't trust those with wealth, but oh well.
We are placed on a shelf, in an order of judgement
No alphabet needed, cos we are all numbers
The rich have their thousands, and we are thus lumbered.
We have warmth in our hearts, the rich are sub-zero
In ancient myth, the poor were the heroes
Cos mind over matter, matters.
It’s no wonder that falling from grace
Puts them right in their place
We have our own place on the shelf
But we’re strong so we try not to break
We are poor, but we’re not in disgrace.