Rich People Die Unhappy

he looks up at her to find she staring back 
at fingerless gloves, with fingernails black 
there's a permanent frown 
that's etched in her skin 
designer bag fat, her figure is thin 
he says hi to her, she nothing to him 
she's scared of the outside, 
she's boxed herself in 
to a world full of judgment 
and callous routine 
she forgets where she's from, 
he knows where he's been 
rich people die unhappy 
that's what daddy said 
but i never believed him 
while drunk in the head 
with our television dinners 
and a broken t.v. set 
money makes you happy i bet 
he goes to be famous, a house in the hills 
very little free time, whole lotta pills 
that nail polish spread to a 
franchise of bands 
as fake as the X's sharpied on their hands 
he was bitter as the smell 
of a magazine review 
but he had all the cars 
and the pools and the view 
and as a bum tries to stop him 
for a 5 or a 10 
he forgets where he's from, 
he forgets where he's been