RICH MAN’S PARADISE

RICH MAN’S PARADISE

by

Matt McGinn

Rich man's paradise, poor man's hell

Rich man's paradise, I bid fare-thee-well

Bread and roses all the way for the chosen few

You ain't thinkin of me, my friend, but I'll be thinking of you

There is no pity, down in the city

The gentlemen with heads held high

Won't see the homeless lady with a little homeless baby

Little tears came glistening in his eyes

Rich man's paradise, poor man's hell

Rich man's paradise, I bid fare-thee-well

Bread and roses all the way for the chosen few

You ain't thinkin of me, my friend, but I'll be thinking of you

Shipyard towns are dying, shipyard folk are crying

Fearful of the things being done

They won't hear them wailing, you will find them sailing

With their Morning Clouds, they'll hide the golden sun

Rich man's paradise, poor man's hell

Rich man's paradise, I bid fare-thee-well

Bread and roses all the way for the chosen few

You ain't thinkin of me, my friend, but I'll be thinking of you

When Sunday bells are ringing, you will hear them singing

Songs of praise the lord on high

They will read the lesson, call down heaven's blessing

Living through their Sunday morning lie

Rich man's paradise, poor man's hell

Rich man's paradise, I bid fare-thee-well

Bread and roses all the way for the chosen few

You ain't thinkin of me, my friend, but I'll be thinking of you