The poor have been robbed, you’ve no chance for a job,
I was told at the CES meeting,
I came out the room, in a blanket of gloom,
And shaking my fist at Paul Keating.
But I thought of a trick, to get rich pretty quick,
And away from a life without hope,
With unstable adults, I’d create a new cult,
And soon be as rich as the pope.
With a failed degree, in some philosophy,
And the new Guinness book of quotations,
I’ll grow my hair long, then chant Indian songs,
And claim I’m a reincarnation.
I’ll get all these mugs hooked onto hard drugs,
To stop them from running away,
And one other thing, to get the crowds in,
I’ll have a gang bang every day.
The cult would grow fast, with restaurants and bars,
To help fund the whole operation,
I’m sure it’ll work if I say I’m a church,
It’ll make me immune from taxation.
I’ll add to my hoard with con tricks and fraud,
Till I have an enormous amount,
And when it suits me, I’ll leave the country,
To live of my Swiss bank account.
© Copyright A Jack 1986