Luxury's Lap - Steve Goodman

How does it feel to be

Sittin' in luxury’s lap

Where the money tree grows

And the champagne is always on tap

Tell me how does it feel to be breathing

That rarefied air

Way up at the level where only

The devil may care

Where those who have and

Those who have so much

Are all standing in line to meet

The man with the Midas touch

From the bottom of the valley

They run to the top of the heap

With lots of bourbon and valium

To put the sad winners to sleep

Oh those poor rich people

They have to find a reason for

Every thing they do

Oh those poor rich people

All of that green just makes them blue

So they juggle the books and

Redistribute the wealth

But all of that juggling is

Hazardous to your health

When the ashtrays are full

We’ll sell the car for scrap

It’s one more tax shelter in

Downtown luxury’s lap