Poetry

Rich, rich like a king, gold, at your fingertip, always been a dream now it seems, what you have wanted is real. When you open your eyes you open them too green skies. Your smile is so bright, even brighter than your golden chain, you are covered in vain, tell me does it make you feel right? So rich, like never before opens many door, closed before, but what is flying out of the window? Just a flash, far too soon you forget. Pooor, poor you’ve been, now you can’t even imagine how it’s been. Now you think it’s simply a matter of how you think, a matter of hard work. Truth be told, most are born one way and stay the same. Truth be told, even if you work hard, even when your back breaks, when your lights go out, likely you’re as poor as before. I’m sorry I wish I could say, something differently something hopeful, but the statistics are truthfull. Yes, yes you climbed until the top, but you also had luck, yes you also take the labour of others. No, don’t tell me how big the risk is, of falling. Tell me why is it so awful, to be where your workers are? Tell me. And now? Now that you are rich what will it be like? When they dig your grave what will you have left? Hatred and taxtheft? Rich, rich like a king, gold, at your fingertip, always been a dream now it seems, what you have wanted is real. When you open your eyes you open them too green skies. Tell me, my sweetling how are you feeling, going down the golden highway are you happy?