Money Commands Respect Poem by Adams King

Men pretend a smile
When the sun is up in your cloud

Money commands respect
For no man is a friend to the poor

Its no philosophy of mine
But the real nature of man

When your rivers run dry
Even blood throw spittle at your face

Wisdom is profitable to men
But money belittles the wisdom of man

Who is a wise man without money
For every poor man is seen as a fool

If life will not give me what I asked for
Then the devil will be my next option

I will dip my hands into the pot of wealth
And sell my soul if I must

For I rather be a slave to the devil
Than worship my own fellow man

If my maker wants me poor
I will seek another god to be served

I will go seek the god of gold
And give my soul as a sacrificial collateral

You can judge me if you want
Or play your part of criticism

We all dream of a castle of gold
Why act like the pretending pharisees

How many of you can love a poor man
Nor journey the rough road of life

How many of you will manage a wooden bed
When the cushion of comfort calls

Who would patiently wait for miracles
When the bush part of success is known

Who would stay dry and thirsty
When the river runs in Babylon