What Comes of Honesty

There is a means to an end

There is a way that seems right to a man

They drag for gold in the sea

But there are no riches, the stubborn will see

They will be grasping at sand

They will be left with lonely, sad salty hands

There is a means to an end

There is a different way to be a man

They try to build their empires

But all their sand castles will one day expire

Wealth is not measured in land

The richest of men have the least in possessions