BETTER DAYS

Better days are coming, find better days,
That was a journey worth a mention.
When you go looking for the pot of gold, the perfect life,
You'll only stumble upon an extension of the past —
Prevails to be similar to the now,
Where the present isn't better than the future's veil holds for you.
I know what you're thinking — rather cold of you,
To tell me what my future's clenched to in your brain.
What you want and what you get will never be the same,
This isn't something anybody controls.
You'll never win the fight, and when you think you're wrong,
It'll always prove you right — inevitable of facts based upon the truth.
It's better that one learns this early in their youth,
For committing crime or cheating time — it never works, one or the other.
God will always be the one who carves the path,
For people and all other. To think we are higher than the powers of God,
To be will never be coerced or overpowered.
Why don't we see this, all the rich and wealthy,
Think they beat the game but the almighty Lord will treat them all the same.
Just because they flock fancy clothes with wristbands that spell their name,
The good Lord can take that in a second and turn it all to flame,
That burns our ego, we'll spit it out with ashes to remain.
It's all the same for rich and poor,
The poor shall still remember that just because the rich have money,
They could still freeze in December.
For wealth never meets knowledge if focused on it alone,
This will either leave you lifeless, lonely — trouble with that there is no home.
Remember one thing — being alive a poor man is not wealth or fameless,
It's one who suffered loss, one who's bounced back tragic days,
That's who you should call the boss.
One who's crawled out of the ashes, stands upon this hill,
Who has no money and has lost all's gained, yet he still will flip the bill.
You can turn that pain and suffering into something great,
And walk out into a crowd, teach those that it's not too late,
To become something with saturated love that fits into the life of others,
Flawlessly like a hand fits in a glove.
Can adapt to all four seasons and guide those through the night,
Walking backwards blindfolded without a single fight.
This is rich — the man who seems untamed,
Who wears the rags on both his feet but walks proud just the same.
Who doesn't need a wallet filled with paper — all you need is day and night,
And a paper with your name.
This is powerful, as in the end money spent, but your name remains.
And if that name resumes steady growth,
This defines who's rich.