The other side

The poor peasant wants a nine to five, with a cushioned ride.
The urban man, he who flies high, misses the countryside.
The priest wants a new smartphone, one to track his time.
The resource wants to be left alone, to listen to heavenly chime.

The rich man wants his tender son, to walk down to the school.
The poor man shades his son from sun, waiting for climates to cool.
The good boy who carries his lunch, wants a full day fast.
The poor guy wants to see, how many burgers would he last.

The village head flees to the town, to be mister anonymous.
The entrepreneur wants a crown, and craves to be famous.
The urban kid finds the cotton cool, flaunts it off to friends.
The country kid wears jeans to school, the one he lavishly lends.

The bachelor geek misses his mom, and her handmade food.
The homebound guy feeds his tom, as he walks to eat some good.
Oh, the irony, my bitter sweet world, you wish to be a perfect place.
I can bet all my household, utopia hates her own grace.

Around the hill is a circular pass, for the world to ever stride.
And there always is the grass, greener on the other side.