When I have fears that I, my money will cease to be
Before I soon will face financial strain
Before High I stand, I will be forced out on the streets.
When eviction and shame plague my soul,
When I behold these greenbacks, to spend them I do race.
For holes they burn in my pocket, a sort of trance,
And think that I may be doomed to stare at this face,
The face of an impulsive spender, whom victory I have no chance.
And when I feel this flower
Starting to bloom, I let it grow, for soon I am poor.
Never have I fully said no to this awesome power,
For the cycle soon starts afresh and I focus on the score;
I need some precious time to think
On proper ways to save, or again I soon will sink.
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