Rich People Die Unhappy

he looks up at her to find she staring back

at fingerless gloves, with fingernails black

there's a permanent frown

that's etched in her skin

designer bag fat, her figure is thin

he says hi to her, she nothing to him

she's scared of the outside,

she's boxed herself in

to a world full of judgment

and callous routine

she forgets where she's from,

he knows where he's been

rich people die unhappy

that's what daddy said

but i never believed him

while drunk in the head

with our television dinners

and a broken t.v. set

money makes you happy i bet

he goes to be famous, a house in the hills

very little free time, whole lotta pills

that nail polish spread to a

franchise of bands

as fake as the X's sharpied on their hands

he was bitter as the smell

of a magazine review

but he had all the cars

and the pools and the view

and as a bum tries to stop him

for a 5 or a 10

he forgets where he's from,

he forgets where he's been