Wednesday, 7 December 2011


City of Miles of interchangeable squares
 full of meaningless suits and control freak bulls and bears
 obsessive compulsive psychos with designer habits 
who drink like fishes and bonk like rabbits 
their only meaning is to profit and survive 
walking like the living dead willing themselves alive 
thinking themselves pretty in a world of funny money 
pouring out their emptiness to expendible honey 
stocking up on false friendships with sick and fanatical brokers 
who ensure their clients stay coked up and end up dead no hopers 
these boys live in soul less buildings a reflection of their greed 
reflecting self absorption, its self awareness that they need 
their cars are fast and shiny, like the women they enjoy 
treating every clinging person as a Christmas cracker toy 
they have no guile, these baby bankers getting off on destroying men 
and smiling at those they wish to stab in the back again and again and  again 
money runs through their veins and their brains and their balls 
making all around them smaller and themselves the biggest fools 
not realising they're being squeezed by life, the system and the thrill 
seeking selfish fun blindly and the closure and the kill 
optioning their worth in life as little more than cash 
hedging all their offshore bets before the final crash. 

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