Dollar Bill
By repomen79
I'm Bill, you're new age cash machine. The like of which you've never seen. I shake and bake, and know the score. I'm not a dumb machine no more. I'm stuck up, conceited, disdainfully bankful. You get what I give you, and better be thankful. You're only a beggar from whom I expect. Boot licking gratitude, expressing respect. I've got you're money, Don't try to be rude. Cause I've got a cure for you're bad attitude. How smart will you be, when you're utterly broke? And all of you're credit has gone up in smoke? No doubt you'll scream, No doubt you'll holler. But it won't get you a wrinkled dollar. You're barks not as bad as my electronic bite. The jokes on you, so treat me right Put you're card right in my slot. Lets take a look at what you got. Tap my keys, in reverent awe. And maybe, I'll let you withdraw. Or maybe I'll take, In a data snit. You're card inside and mangle it. Spit out the shreds, then send you away. Thank you sir. Have a real nice day. Consider the happy contemplation. Of all the joyous complication. I'm you're future, vague and mean. I'm Bill. You're new age cash machine. Written November 30th, 2001 © on Aug 09 2002 07:54 AM PST, Patric Patterson 18 • 0 • 14
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"I'm Bill, you're new age cash machine...."