Creative

Your Life is Your Bitch

18 July 2017
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Your grace I serve a flamboyant existence
Due to all your wealth
You are wholly invincible
Your barbaric mistakes pardoned by pounds

You are a master of games
You can enslave the law
You will 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
We shall not forget
We will sew you a pouch

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