Helping Hands

Helping hands,
like a gift from above.
They dig their own grave,
like a mole
sand-swimming
its way to freedom.

The man is standing tall.
Shovel way up high.
All he does is wait.
You’re all going to die.

Greedy hands
take what they can get.
Helping hands
have made his cozy bed.
They’ll sleep outside,
out of breath,
out of money.
They’ll sleep outside
and think all of this is funny.

Helping hands
can’t get a grip.
Helping hands
make the others slip.
Helping hands
forget to take their own.
Helping hands
let others die alone.