The Worth Of Dough Gets A Go!

The cat can just relax. I don't even have to pay tax. I'll leave that to my slave. I'll just curl up in my cat cave. But you humans sure do a lot. Then things go to pot. Then you wonder why. Maybe the dollar sign in each eye?

Have to go.
Have to run.
Need that dough.
Can't have fun.

20 hour days.
6 days a week.
My eyes my glaze,
But I get the dough I seek.

The 7th day of rest?
Bah, who needs that?
I work 21 hours at best.
I'm not a lazy cat.

Sleep can wait.
It isn't needed.
Money is my fate.
Tons is seeded.

Look at my account?
It is so large.
The tax man takes their amount,
But I'm still in charge.

Months to years.
I've made that much more.
But I don't get cheers.
No one's at my door.

No one at all.
My body is toast.
But I won't stall.
I will just boast.

I've got it all.
All in my account.
It sits and won't stall.
It's so much I can't count.

Do you want to see?
Come and look.
I worked for my money tree.
I don't even have need for a nook.

Look at it there.
Just sitting in the account.
I have money to spare.
A cash mountain to mount.

Do you humans hear yourselves sometimes? My, what the chimes. One actually went on and on to me about it. He thought he was the shit. Broken with nothing but a tiny apartment at his sea. But he had all that money that never goes on any kind of shopping spree. He works, it sits. That would give me fits. What is the point in having a ton and nothing at all? Crappy health leaving one curled up in a ball? We'll take the middle of the grass. We don't want Pat not spending money on my little rhyming ass.

Enjoy your winter, smash a printer.