"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.