Don't Tell Me About It I Already Know

Don't tell me about it I already know
That money on bushes and trees does not grow
Yet of it some do have far more than enough
Whilst millions of poor people are doing it tough.

The unequal distribution of wealth seems humanity's shame
For every millionaire hundreds without a penny to their name
Homeless and hungry on poverty street
They hardly would know of the taste of good meat.

So many of life's opportunities denied
Their circumstance of birth their future's for them decide
Of their lives of poverty of varying degrees
In the refugee camps millions of refugees.

Don't tell me about it I know all too well
That millions are living in their earthly hell
Money breeds inequality doesn't that seem unfair
It is a rat race in the big World out there.