Do you think we’d see the light
if sunshine cost the wealthy something
or would we live in blackest night
outside the gate and out of sight?
“Mo money! Mo money!”
the chant heard from within
a choir sings the liturgy
forgiving you of sin
Breathe it in; a line of lucre
one snort will get you high
like a woman who leaves you wanting more
never quite satisfied
Your estate must have a bunker
with an atom bomb proof door;
don’t forget the bullets and the hardware in the drawer
in case they come to get you, those hoards of wretched poor
‘cause money makes the world grow round
addicted rich all wanting more
snortin’ spoils while on the march
the opiate of the oligarch.
photo: Roman Abramovitch’s yacht (the world’s largest private yacht – left) parked next to the Qatari royals at St. Barts.