I would be a millionaire.
Honest. You'd see my name on the billboards up there.
But unfortunately I think it's only fair, that instead I create nice things.
I like to make things of no monetary value, poems, songs and stories to read you.
Things you can take and pretend that you own. You can't do that, say, with a mansion or home.
I mean, someone would notice if you tried to do that.
Have this poem, it's yours and please take it. Use it at a slam and pretend that you wrote it.
Take my stories, my songs, the things I put down. Just don't be alarmed when you find I don't frown.
Some people write poems and they make some money. I just write one, when I'm feeling funny.
Some people write books and they get an advance. I like to write stories so my thoughts can advance.
Some people write songs. (I don't, I'm shit at that, I thought I'd just tell you that some people do.)
So I'm officially waiving my right to my rightful riches. You can keep my trillions, or throw it in ditches.
I get all I need, when my work rises like yeast. People talk about it, everywhere. North, South and East.
For ol' Charlie, enough is as good as the feast. I'll just take a broke bed, and a warm piece of dinner. Doesn't matter where you lay, if you've the heart of a winner.
I'm humble, I'm gracious. And this poem is yours. It's worth a grand fortune, I swear on the law.
Because I'm a noble artist, and a free and true spirit. I- Wait, a sec.
Phonecall from a publicist. They've sent me a cheque.
...
So that whole spiel I said, about this being yours....
You know that I meant that in a metaphorical sense, right?
