Give me your money.

Honey scratch,
Green biscuit,
Smack.

Shove it,
Sack it
Straight
to my hands.

Happiness
Dances 'round it.
Deny that,
Youre wrong. 

At night,
It creeps
Out of reach
From the weak.

In the same 
Creeping night,
It pleasures
The strong.

Does money buy happiness?
Or do you?