Death and Taxes

Listen up lowlife, I make greatness look trite, Arrogance so far below me, I’m way out of sight, The whole world’s something, stuck to my shoe, Never wear mainstream, only designer brand new. Could not care less, weather you live or die Be sure your funeral cortège stops, as I pass by, Don’t even look at me, gaze upon the ground, Better not breathe same air, when I’m around. Completely flawless, no mirror can reflect me, Chosen by myself, to judge everyone that I see, When speaking put polished marbles in my mouth, Step outside our mansion, everything goes south. Family’s so privileged, only private tutors we seek, When at the opera, have our own personal suite, Only best Moët Chandon, passes through my lips, No matter how good the service, I never give tips. Yes obnoxiously happy, confident I’ll never die, So just go and wallow, but find your own pigsty, I’m a total master class, in unbridled snobbery, Made my billions, defrauding the IRS in robbery. By David Kavanagh