You are paper child:
you are white, you are delicate,
you come in one shade,
on one ream of paper.
That is how you were put here,
and that is how you will leave.
Fear not of your ink stains, son
we have written out your future-
kept it in the borders of the blue lines.
You are quite the piece of paper son,
dont let anyone tell you otherwise.
You were made with the finest ink, you know?
Ink that flew from the pen of a stock broker,
a lawyer, a doctor.
You are no blue collar worker,
you are a man of fine clothes and gold watches,
you are a man made of riches.
You are to be raised in a gold building
with a lead door so no one may see you.
I tell you befriend the man with the cigar
but do not fear him,
do not anger him or he may one day burn you.
Do as I say son, as I've learned from my father.
stay in your borders, marry any woman you wish-
and life will bring you treasure
beyond your wildest desire,
and it is desire that keeps the hunger growing
so my son, do not eat too much.