One Man's Trash
Most of our cleaning:
Relocating stacks
From the sink
To the washer
To the shelves
From the racks
If all that you’re doing
Is moving the piles
There’s no end in sight
It goes on for miles
So stop all the hoarding
And adding to stacks
Just throw it away
So it can’t come back
My children will hate me
When I’m dead and gone
And all of my stuff
Will be out on the lawn
They won’t have a use
For all of my stuff
My precious belongings
I’m way past enough
I know how to help them
To sift through my trash
Inside random objects
I’ll insert real cash
Instead of a grimace
They’ll have a brief thrill
There in the underwear:
$100 bills
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