You paid sapphires to the swine with your chalices of wine and your niece who wears your dreams just like a crown. All that power has escaped you though you toiled all the day through for the promise of a hummer and a pound.
I don't know what to do for you. I could draw you a picture of the world, and it's true I could have loved you, but your dreams are on fire and your prophet is a banker and a liar.
If their money won't fulfill you there are medicines that will do all the thinking for you so you can relax. The poison piss of easy living full of shit and unforgiving to the poor who rest your burdens on their backs.