Saturday, 31 October 2015

Your Life is Your Bitch

Your grace
I serve a flamboyant existence
Due to all your wealth
You are wholly invincible
Your humble mistakes
Pardoned in pounds

You are a master of games
You can enslave the law
You can beat all those up
Dare they cause you
All blue and all sore

You shove down your wealth
Inside those cowardice mouths
You lecture them that lesson
You shut up the crowd

But there is one little thing
From which you can’t always hide
There is this one tragic thing
That gives you no sleep
That in all of that silence
You sob and you weep

Now please do not kill me
When I tell you something
You would rather not hear
Please do not kill me
For it is death you do fear

Though needn’t you worry
Be not as grey as the clouds
For on that day when you die
We shall project our pain loud

Atop your marble bed
Inside the silk -woven shroud
With rare golden thread
I shall not forget
I will sew you a pouch

So within you can carry
All of that wealth
And all of which
Which made you so proud