people rolling
numbers playing
losers tolling
bells flaying
winners missing.
millions listening
to the sound of a streak
leading to the pot they seek
pie
in the sky
baked with diamonds
filling the stomach of debt and bonds
ticket
to go see the cricket
full purse
buy the very best hearse
dead
if only you could have afforded the meds
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem