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
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