"Try five trillion," he said.
To think of this smile.
The screen ahead fusing itself
With his vision.
An angel came to him,
Sitting on the window sill.
It’s eyes were red
And it had wings of lead –
Had given up being his guardian.
Had been seen drinking methyl earlier
Outside the tower with the devil.
It was the thrill of meeting a rebel
Who knows all the tunes
To play in the financial bible
In high pitched frequency.