Gold

I've seen them in expensive restaurants,
with a bottle and a glass,
with people at their command.

with gold in their hands,
gold hanging from their neck,
their face wrecked.

they live enslaved,
enslaved by what people say,
their gold rope tight at their neck.

they don't breathe,
someone would do that for them.
they're nobody but they pretend,
all too well, they pretend.

but but but,
a burst in the restaurant,
i'm here, we are back,
you are going to die,

standing on the table,
we fuck, fuck your mother,
sh, sh, shoot your father.