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The Rich Man
There goes the rich man walking down the street
With a godly gait and patronizing eyes.
He’s running late for a massage to his feet,
Exhausted from gobbling all what money can buy.
Do not dare invade his personal space;
We’re not worthy to reside in his presence.
If you must speak, do so with great haste,
For his time is precious and of the essence.
Come and marvel at his opulent mansion!
Gather around; bear witness to such glory!
Let’s praise and worship his lavish fashion!
Better befriend him or you’ll be sorry.
But surely when his gold mine runs bone dry,
He will fall into oblivion, left alone to cry.
Constance van Niekerk
its gonna make sense
Marina R Zeitler
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