Wearing green, their true colors,
With numbers sewn on their backs,
From tens and thousands to the millions,
From the lowest to the highest ranking,
From the private up to the general,
From the irrelevant to the relevant,
From the inferior to the superior,
From the desperate to the redeemer,
An army of stout-hearted aliens in cadence,
They march to the beat of the charity drum.
To the quiet and the boisterous they trek,
To the expected and to the unexpected,
To the unassuming and the arrogant,
To the conservative and the uncontrollable,
To the frugal and the extravagant,
They invade with the best intentions,
Ending up in the hands
Of the wise and the foolish.
Money, money, money,
Such a beautiful face,
You shrine and you superior,
You invader into my world,
You tester of my sagacity,
You friend and you foe,
You avenue to the devil’s door,
You face of charity and goodness,
You hand of the redeemer,
You maker or breaker of mankind,
You builder of character,
You came to me with good intentions.
I vow to honor you for the rest of my life.