New-turned millionaires are very cheap
They laugh when their neighbours weep
They once knew hunger, knew the rent
Now hoard each cent like it was lent
They speak of "grind" and "paying dues"
While walking past the ones who lose
They post their meals, their gold, their shoes
But not the workers they abuse
Borrowed is their facial glow
Always busy in pomp and show
They wear success like tailored skin
But hollow echoes ring within
While aristocrats are cool and calm
The new are like an anxious alarm
They shout their worth, demand applause
And plaster pride on every flaw
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