Money

Whether in your pocket or in my pocket
In the light of day or blind of dark
It is the same, the same thing
You own it and move it in a way
When I have it, I pour it another way
Flow it must - fly, it will
With no resting place, no end to stop
With death unclear and birth in a promise
Don't have to ask if you plan to work
I have to snatch, if you rest it soft