By numbers we judge, by numbers we live,

The cashflow decides if we sink or swim.

 

Work by day, and work by night,

Till rays burst in of morning sunlight.

 

Then take flight they say,

And follow your dreams,

But only if they fit within our seams.

 

Because it’s the numbers that run,

And the numbers that judge,

Whether you lost or won.

 

Tis a gift  they say to live in a county,

Where dreams and success are ruled by money.

 

When your aunt sits you down and asks how things goin

She only wants to hear about what business you runnin.

 

I find it kind of ironic

That our fourth branch of government,

Is named after something meant to keep people out.

Meant to isolate, reject, and deafen the shouts.

Of the people it claims be all about.

 

In a country of scholars,

We are still run by the dollar.

And the people become a blur,

On a spreadsheet used to bargain and barter.

 

A spreadsheet used to decide our future,

A spreadsheet among thousands tucked inside a computer.

 

That go back and forth between a small group of men,

Who in the end will be the ones to decide whether we break or mend,

This country of ours.