I want, I want, I want.
Want to live.
To make it to something.
I want, I want, I want recognition.
Ambition, slowly sucks my patience up.
A sitting duck.
This is terrible, terrible luck.
I cannot move, bound by,
This world's never ending
Groove.
Saying,
"Money."
"Money."
"Money I need from you."
I want to scream, and I do.
Scream at the walls of my small little room.
"I hate you!"
To the world.
To this idea.
"Money, money, money"
The only thing that will get us by.
"Money, money, we need from you"
