Money is the Thing With Feathers

I wake to money, and take my money slow I watched for money, lights turned low One must have a mind of money . . . Money that is not there and the money that is The art of money isn't hard to master . . . The money surrounds us . . . Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet money Money on a wet, black bough Do not go gentle into that good money The pure products of money go crazy Money sweeping out from us to disappear Oh Money! My Money! our fearful trip is done I myself will die without money Money, Money, you bastard, I'm through.