With empty heart and bank account
With money more than is enough,
With such incredible amount,
You can afford just any stuff,
Just any fancy, whim, caprice...
And make your life be idle and funny.
But empty heart is grave disease,
It can't be cured with all your money.
It can't be cured with all your gold
With all your jewelry and treasure.
To golden calf your soul it sold
Your life's a torture, not a pleasure.
Your soul is captured in the cell
Of your too ill imagination.
And you are waited in the hell,
And there is only one salvation
Don't be your bank account's slave
Put off your mind your money’s fetter
To help yourself and even save
Just know, another treasure’s matter.
Just fill your heart with warm and love
With true and natural impression
And live your life and be above
This empty, false and sordid passion
With empty heart... New advanced version
© Copyright: Геннадий Фёдорович Миронов, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119052708141
Свидетельство о публикации №119052708141
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