your monetary measure

i see you there.
i know all about you, man.
i know you don't care,
and in that lies the plan.

you see us as money,
a means to an end:
little people
with small minds,
outside of a culture
you try to defend.

once our usefulness
             has expired,
so do we-
     nothing more than numbers
on a piece of paper
to make your bank accounts thicker.

and our shallow lives
must seem so grave
to people of your order
like pissing down the grate
and into the sewer.

but you know what, brother?
we're better than you
in so many ways.
we don't measure our lives
by the passing of days
and the percentage of interest rates.

we live and breathe,
love and laugh,
and we're in possession
of the kind of soul
you will never have.