I give a dollar, I’m handed a dime
Which I tell them to keep: change makes me feel filthy.
It seems that there’s not enough adequate time.
If you only have coins, keep the change, keep my fifty.
I’ve been judged for my fear what feels like my whole life,
“Change is natural, change is normal”
I’m fine, I’ll get by.
I never liked change, it’s my unchanging moral.
If things were to change I think I might ___.
“Why are you afraid? Pennies are lucky!”
Am I the only one that thinks this way?
I guess it’s just my ideology.
I can’t keep my thoughts from running astray.
But I feel like it’s the policy
To repay my childhood with honesty
For blessing me with odyssey
Don’t come at me modestly
I believe this wholeheartedly
And change won’t drain my childhood ways
If I allow things to change my heart will strain
I don’t even want to imagine the pain
Of me going about things a different way.
What were you saying about a penny?