Isn’t it funny
That we respect money
Although it is nothing but paper?
What I’d like to see
Is when someone like me
Realizes the loopholes of this caper.
It would only take one,
Buying a gift for someone,
To walk into the gift-buying store,
And hand out a bill
To the guy at the till,
And the checker asks “What is this for?”
“It’s money you see,”
Said a someone like me.
“Now you have to give me your stuff.”
“If that is a threat,
Out of my store you should get,”
Says the checker, and I don’t call his bluff.
But why would that man
In the store with the tan
Refuse to accept for his goods
This green piece of cash
That’s no better than trash
If, for instance, you’re stuck in the woods.
The answer to this
Is told by the myth
For children that’s called Peter Pan.
The weight money carries,
Just like “I do believe in fairies,”
Is imaginary, like a good movie by M. Night Shyamalan.
