One day the rich will get tired of having to view the poor.
And in turn build large platforms over decaying cities to totally block them from view.
So they won’t have to share the sun and can literally piss upon the poor.
They will never have to think of those less fortunate and the kind will throw scraps from their platform, as an owner throws scraps from a table to a dog.
The parks will die and soon people will become sick from being deprived of the sun.
But life on the platform will remain fine.
The rich will keep their heads in the sky as an ostrich buries its head in the sand.
And no longer be troubled when shopping the finest stores by the sight of beggars.
The lucky few will work the shops for the rich during the day.
And dream of throwing them off that very same platform.
As these servants will remain the acceptable burden, being the rich can’t do shit without standing upon the backs of the poor.
The high class drunkards will slip below decks just to enjoy a good time.
Because uptight bitches are a bore in the sack.
Many below dream of rising above and the poets will write about this oppression and largely do nothing but sit on their asses and complain.
Well at least some things will remain unchanged.
As me I will never notice the difference staying locked away in the bar.
The sun is overrated and an editor is but a modern day vampire living off booze and handing out rejections.
To the academics who speak of unknown truths as they piss from the penthouse.
While I read their scribblings and send their shit back to them from below.
Sorry but it’s a no from sewer rats.