Money

Yes sir yes sir three bags full no sir no sir not of wool Of heaven of hell, nothing quite compares fuels of dreams, lust, and joy, and also nightmares In these bags lie something humanity craves but when satisfied only puts them in their graves For one man it saves, but sometimes for another it will push them to murder, to kill their own brother To a fool it's a drug, to a gentleman a well played hand but don't be fooled, you're life to it commands But here three bags, packed tight and furled, lies a portion of what controls, and corrupts the world