In a world of wealth and grandeur, I once did reside,

A pompous, judgmental man, with arrogance as my guide.

But alas, fortune turned its back, and left me in dismay,

For the scales of justice tipped, and my riches slipped away.

For the next few weeks I’m stuck with poor folks,

Completely unaware how I’ll survive,

This feels like a coax.

I can’t believe people really live like this,

Have they no pride?

When I was invited on this little trip, I assumed it was somewhere nice.

Now I’ve agreed to this terrible mistake, stuck at a place called the Red Roof Inn.

Someone’s already offered me “Beef Jerky” and said this is the nicest hotel they’d ever been in.

I’ll probably leave with bed bugs and disease,

In what world did they think I’d be pleased?

Is this hell?

If not, it’s close,

You can bet your ass, I’m going right back home.

I brought my things with me, I’m not leaving them in that dingy room,

Now I’m overdressed at dinner drinking something called “Blue Moon.”

I checked for the next first class flight out, but there were none I stumbled about.

I bemoan this cruel twist of fate,

To be reduced to middle class, it's simply not my trait.

But here I am, pretending to be poor, you see,

Living a regular life, oh woe is me!

I stroll the streets, mingling with the common folk,

Engaging in conversations, pretending I understand being broke.

I approach a regular chap, with a serious tone,

And tell him I made my fortune, by being nice to a wealthy relative, right before he was gone.

The regular man looks at me, with a puzzled gaze,

As if my words were a joke, a comedic phrase.

I persist, trying to fit in with the crowd,

But it’s not working, I’m just too proud.

They ask for advice, seeking wisdom from my past,

And I reply, "Why worry about rainy days, my friends, when you can make it rain champagne, oh so fast?"

The crowd stares at me, both surprised and confused,

For my words are absurd, and they can’t see my view.

Being broke is like a bad joke, with no punchline,

But I'll keep pretending, for a little more time.

After all, there must eventually be an upcoming flight.

Ah, but deep down, I know, I'll never truly be poor,

But this bitter taste of normalcy, I completely abhor.

I'll continue this charade, with a fake smile on my face,

Living a middle-class life, in this peculiar space.

As soon as the opportunity arises, to flaunt my wealth once more,

I'll seize it with gusto, and let my riches, and wings of the plan home, soar.