Don't whine about your superficial lives
Without a single problem, so you make
Up silly nonsense. Ease of life, it drives
The whiny wealthy of the world to fake
At having problems, fake at poverty,
Ignoring people who must work to farm
A patch of rocky soil they wish to flee
For factories so they are fed and warm.
Their children die of illness and must work
And everyone feels fear what little they
May have will soon be seized by cops who lurk
Like criminals and rob you in the day.
Lament the paper cuts of life and sigh
At minor bruises like you're going to die.