Fool's Gold

 

Upon these streets of shame,

wished for talent and fame.

Streets paved in fool’s gold.

At the crossroads

you pay with your soul.

 

Paper days,

torn from the calendar on display.

Another hour closer to the final meeting,

inching closer to the final resting place.

But you have glory,

this is the story

you tell yourself to help you sleep.

That this is what you need,

this is not greed,

it's a fairy-tale fantasy.

 

You live the high life,

all your hopes and desires.

All that shines is fool’s gold.

Sold a lie,

but you believe the story told.

You believe your own talent,

your own egotistical worldview.

Everything is all about you.

 

Sold your soul for fine wine,

canapés and white lines.

But now it's getting closer to the end,

the spell is fading

and the skin you wear is wearing thin.

The bags beneath your eyes

are not bags for life

but bags of death

filling with the tears of sand you cry.

 

And now the man in black is back,

ready to take what was once yours

and put it in his hessian sack.

You beg and plead,

from your contract you wish to be freed,

but the man in black just laughs

as you breathe your final gutteral gasps.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Kyle