[Bigbadbob]

Is this the basis for all your action
Amusing to me, it’s singular attraction
Could a cold night in need
Divest you of such selfish habits

A notion of entitlement
Wreathes an avarice attachment
A toast to health, to wealth, to the
Smoothest flesh draped in richest silk

And they will make a million
Yes they will make their millions…

You can see it behind their eyes
in those shifty little glances
You can witness their cold hearts cry,
Whose wounds run deep and tragic

No, the intent is not benign
As they flash their little plastic
All they simply know is
That they have to have it

And they will make a million
Yes they will make their millions…

Like sparse summer rains
let the well run dry
Gold from the riches veins
Can’t fill the afterlife
So a toast to your health
A toast to your wealth
A toast to the luxury
You’ve afforded yourself
As you make your millions..