Dead Presidents

They say money is the root of all evil
But i think its only the root of some
Persons erase faces just to attain
This green or colorful paper
That contains more dead faces
Isn't it amazing how a persons identity
Is what gives a clean slate
Vast amounts of quality
Yet lacking that great quantity
Renders you unequal to society
We blood sweat and tears
Just to contain an army of dead
How is it in absence they still have so much power
Its like their ghost continues to rule the universe
Without their face the axis is frozen
The world stops moving
We become paralyzed because their mugshot
Helps us live in paradise and be free

But money is actually the root of all slavery
Slave to our urges to want the best
Slave to becoming a carbon copy
Because we want someone else's name
Branded upon our chest
When did another persons wealth
Become our way of being valued
How is it that we are not good enough
For even our own essence
Just thinking of all this money talk
Renders me depressed but still i can't rest
Until i rack up the numbers
That make me secure
But the reality is numbers are infinite
So we'll die wanting more
These faces aren't the root of evil
But they stem from something more
Money is the root of a demon
But that demon is in reality
Our falsified freedom