It’s Not the Same ~ Philip Brent Harris

Please, breathe deeply and let it all go
Why worry about how little you know?
Sit back and relax and go with the flow
Like you are buried neck-deep in snow

Unless you’re loaded, rolling in dough
You don’t count, case you don’t know
Wage-slaves, drones held down below
Have a drink, toke, a nose full of blow

You wish to join us; our answer is no
Nor is it any manner of quid pro quo
No more middle, only lower than low
And just no further down you can go

Rich bet they’re special; I bet it ain’t so
A sad song played by a tiny violin, bow
Laugh when I hear those top folks crow
All equal, whether ashes, six feet below