A realistic ideology:

They sit on their horses high and sip tea from china cups,
made from our hands, but of course so much finer.
In their shirt and ties that scream out the same pieces of paper used to buy their tux,
As the claim to know us, the “ones who can’t afford to buy designer”.

Isn’t it a shame to live in a place where what we make we cannot have,
but rather its given to some other to abuse.
How everything has a value, but it’s just the price tag,
and how everything has to have that tag, without it it’s no use.

They talk through the glass screen claiming to be just like you,
or is it that you should be more like them?
In their private cars, talking from designer smiles, your eyes to the screen like glue,
hypnotising you with ideologies, sinking fangs into your mind, ready with their venom.

But when you sleep at night, do you long for something much more,
do your legs become restless and mind wander to places new?
Places you want to see, and the faces that you’ve come to adore,
there’s a wealth worth tenfold than what  they tell you in that rose tinted view.

For we are the lucky ones for our wealth we can tightly hold,
we have no horse to fall from, we can follow our own path .
We have no rose tinted glasses and we still have intact our souls,
and in each others home made wealth we can bask.