Bandit’s Tale
In form, my tale's a song
And isn’t very long.
I sing of something bright
Of gold and silver light,
Or shiny pitch black hue,
Yet sometimes gone from view.
So listen with rapt glee
Then answer this for me:
Why is it always money
That we are searching for?
Why is it always money?
Is there nothing more?
To seek for love and honor
Is what we all should do.
Yet it is always money
That drives more than a few.
That which I speak
Is not just gold.
But also oil;
Land, bought or sold;
All things to do
Untapped wealth show.
Can turn us sour
And love forego.
Why is it always money
That we are searching for?
Why is it always money?
Is there nothing more?
To seek spotless potential
Seems what we strive to do
Yes any kind of money
Propels more than a few.
Worry of what the morrow brings
Can drive us mad
And cause to
Do all sorts of horrible things.
So I do but caution us all
To live for now
And love today
And fret not what only might call.
Why Is it always money
That we are searching for?
Why is it always money?
Is there nothing more?
We toil and labor and fear
A future that may not be
It gobbles all our money
So no one can be free.
So leave behind all money
And cast away your fear.
And love all living creatures
And hold your God most dear.
For love’s great untapped power
Can far surpass them all
And save all those among us,
Make great those thought too small.
©2012 Steven Gorman. All rights reserved.
