Sometimes, I make believe I have a trust fund. Mostly on Fridays, after a long week of toiling in the soil. I’m tired. I pop the cork, have a glass of wine, mellow out. My mind starts to wonder. And I play this game called Trust Fund Fantasy.

This week it goes like this:

I have just started receiving a monthly independent income, passed on to me by wealthy parents of noble descent, who died tragically in a plane crash after hijacker terrorists had taken over the aircraft. The black box found after the crash contained evidence that my father had died a hero, accosting the villains just before the plane went down, with nothing but his bare hands and courage.

Another glass of wine, please…. I’m thoroughly relaxed now. I decide to try a new tact: praying to God.

I know, I’m dating myself.

(You can start the YouTube link now.)

“Mercedes Benz”

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,
So Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a color TV ?
Dialing For Dollars is trying to find me.
I wait for delivery each day until three,
So oh Lord, won’t you buy me a color TV ?

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a night on the town ?
I’m counting on you, Lord, please don’t let me down.
Prove that you love me and buy the next round,
Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a night on the town ?

Everybody!
Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends,
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,
So oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?

That’s it!

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