Money Is The Thing With Feathers
By Susan Firer
I wake to money, and take my money slow
I watched for money, lights turned low
One must have a mind of money . . .
Money that is not there and the money that is
The art of money isn’t hard to master
. . . The money surrounds us . . .
Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet money
Money on a wet, black bough
Do not go gentle into that good money
The pure products of money go crazy
Money sweeping out from us to disappear
Oh Money! My Money! our fearful trip is done
I myself will die without money
Money, Money, you bastard, I’m through.
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