For wealth grown it cuts like knives.
Those with money have no lives.
Money is the object of mans obsession.
Family is the end of a dying mans confession.
Men like that only care for wealth.
Women of those men walk around in pelts.
Walk around like they own the town.
Stepping on those like their wearing a crown.
They think they have it all you see.
Until they die they don’t know what their missing.
To be rich is not measured by dough
But by loved ones and loved ones of those.
A man who’s wallet is very fat.
Thinks he has it all figured out like a map.
A women who follows a man of wealth
Ends up dying alone with only her pelts.
Head this warning and head it well.
For those who die with wealth only have a bell.
A bell tolls for those who die
But loved ones tears are never cried.
Die with friends and be rich with many.
The wealth of friends is measured more heavily than those with pennies.
The rich will die and die alone
But the wealthy ones with friends never die far from home.
Make friends and hold them dear.
Never think they are to near.
I’m not saying don’t try to make a buck or two.
All I’m saying is don’t let it consume you.
The rich die alone and afraid
But the ones with friends live on for many more days.
