I am rich, I can choose:
send a storm that throws them away
as the waste they are

I can give everyone all the gory
details, how bad they stink
under their oh so fancy clothes

I can withdraw, entrench myself
and not give them the least
because they deserve nothing at all

for their actions, day and night
I can let grey rains drench
the whole world in sadness

drop everything out of my hands
and **** grab my things
or on the contrary a bag

with comfort and care to help
them mercifully, I can repent
take a step back and make it right

because who am I in the end
to think I know better, anyway
urgently, I want to do something

and I can choose, I choose
to be wise, because no
I'm not insane