By Philip Shapland*
We don't want to work; we don't want to sweat
We don't want to toil, or to pay the debt.
We don't want a job that's dirty or hot;
We don't want to strive, or to think a lot.
We don't want to strain; we don't want to ache.
We don't want to give, we just want to take.
We don't want to hear what you have to say
We are the children of the easy way.
We want to get rich, and we don't care how.
We don't want to wait, we want it all now.
We don't want to learn, or to make the grade
But compensation! We want to be paid!
We don't want to stand or to walk upright
It's too much like work and makes us uptight.
We'd rather kick back and lie down all day
We are the children of the easy way.
We don't want to work at relationships,
Because it's too hard too many bad trips.
We can find new friends, new husbands and wives
Do things our way or get out of our lives!
We'll bear more offspring, whatever the cost
It doesn't matter if they end up lost.
We don't look ahead to a future day
We are the children of the easy way.
We want a palace with solid gold doors
It doesn't matter if we're pimps and whores.
We want to feel good; we want to get high
It doesn't matter if we starve or die.
We want the cocaine, cigarettes and smack;
The beer and the pot, the whiskey and crack.
It doesn't matter if our minds decay
We are the children of the easy way.
Give us the glitter - the hype and the flash.
Give us the money - the gold and the cash.
Give us the platter and the silver spoon
A ticket to heaven - and make it soon.
Give us the Lear jet and the limo ride,
So when we're depressed we can run and hide.
Give us some diamonds and we'll be okay
We are the children of the easy way.
Give us the riches and the goods so fine
All of the best from the assembly line.
Give us the keys to the bank vault door:
The Mastercard Gold the Visa, and more!
Give us the power and glory on earth!
Let the world marvel at our net worth!
But don't make us labor for honest pay
We are the children of the easy way.
There isn't a scam or game we won't try
We do what we have to, just to get by.
We know how to play all the odds to win,
Though some think its wrong or even a sin.
We know all the tricks, the schemes and the cons
For us, all of you are patsies and Johns.
There's no end to our hustle, night or day
We are the children of the easy way.
We know how to steal and evade the law.
We know how to fight with the fang and claw.
We know how to kill and to use a gun.
You think it's ugly, but we're havin' fun.
Life is cheap, and if you don't want to die,
You'd better step aside, and don't ask why.
Yeah, the body count is risin' each day
We are the children of the easy way.
You seem to be shocked at the way things are
Like you can't believe that they've gone this far.
You can't understand all the blood and gore
Why your son's a pimp; your daughter's a whore;
Your friends are junkies; your neighbors are thieves;
You're stuck in a war of drugs and disease.
We're the ones to blame? It's our fault, you say?
We're just the children of the easy way.
You can't understand where our greed came from
Why we grew up stupid, selfish, and numb?
In your game where few are allowed to win,
Our demise is sure - the result's built-in.
Yeah, the deck is stacked - it's a sucker's game.
(Work hard and you might get fortune and fame?!)
So we changed the rules about how to play
We are the children of the easy way.
But you probably still don't understand
You're even less inclined to lend a hand.
No, you still don't see that you share the blame
After all, It's your deal, and it's your game.
Your moral outrage is downright two-faced.
As you throw us away like toxic waste.
You fostered our greed so now you can pay
We are the children of the easy way.
And last, a message you won't want to hear:
Who are "we"? Take a look in the mirror!
All the things you hate, you now have become:
A greedy glutton who is deaf and dumb;
A blind man who leads us all to the ditch;
A rapist pig; and a castrating bitch.
The reflection's clear - there's no more to say
You are a child of the easy way.
* Posted to this site with the author's permission from his book Thoughts in the Wind
Poetry / Fiction / Non Fiction