The Object Called Money Broke The Abra

The object called money broke the abra,
The codices were emptied, the foci were few,
The judge wrote the poor as a sinner,
Giving money is pleasing to our acquiring criminal.

Without knowing abra, your eye on the scale,
You add water to milk, your shameless face,
While swallowing your word with your wandering tongue,
You are looking for a servant who does not see your deception.