A billion Dollar Soul
A billion can buy a bushel of impenetrable silence.
Hectares of prime farmland or flashy private jets.
It can buy a turd in stilettos and a pyrite-hearted mistress.
A billion can buy you a secondhand spaceship.
Or an endless good run of Wall Street luck. It can buy a pair of bloated lip-plastic nips and butts.
With a billion you can casually jump burning ships.
Change the scented steps of a double helix.
Buy a fresh orphaned kidney if you so wish.
A billion can buy you onto underage islands.
Where the silver heads pleasure and innocents' dies.
A billion can buy a cure, but it never has the will.
There's more profit in a shady shot or a toxic pill.
They say money can't buy happiness, but I'd rather die on a champagne yacht.
With half a dozen painted chicks on my arm.
Then all alone under a soggy city bridge
A billion can quarry a slab of pink granite stone.
But not a stitch of silk will anyone own
when death unchains the flesh from the soul.
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