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Time won't permit to talk of him
All that was left,a bottle of gin
Staggering, gutter sleeping, easily drunk
Still has his father punk.
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Years have passed, unrecoverable
Unending days of best factory fashionable
Awards, plagues, filled the office table
Till a recklessness son, made a gamble.
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Sobber for once, he asked
Where, when, fathers wealth
The truth : all wasted
Cried that day, cursed, no remedy.
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Dave, Tony, Damian, Cassy
All did the same thing, wasting
No thought for the morrow
Now they wail in poverty and sorrow.
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Lesson learnt, we stood up
Filthy rich kids, they must not fuck up
Home trainings done, maximise wealth
For that is this generation best bet.
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Train, train, make them know this
Money's code is invest, not drink
For the future, for humanity
Though, soon, we'll say bye to fiat.
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