I’m not a servant, I’m an assistant
I work for folks who move too fast
So that they can travel far
They require the best and detest the rest
I must prove superb or be ignored
But not too good
A good assistant ensures self-esteem
A few mistakes to show I’m imperfect
Quickly lifts their self-regard
And where they goest, I shall go
Tokyo, Paris, the Orinoco
My greatest skill postponing impatience
I modulate their lust for ultimate luxury
Giving them glimpses of absolute happiness
Once you hide your pride you rarely slide
I coast above the subways to suburbia
Thin homes devouring cash and soul
Living midst my betters I learn what’s superior
Not to care at all
And though they love wealth more than life
They enjoy dropping gold flakes down my way
For such moments I’m almost too abashed to say
How much I admire their perfect generosity
Working for the rich may not feel best
But they’ll last longer than the rest
And as this world goes to hell
Survival’s good enough for me