A man alone at home,
at night,
in the low light,
sat alone at a table,
under a single bulb,
a table with stacks of dollar bills,
and drugs upon it,
his choice,
an easy life,
but not paying any mind,
to those who suffer and who die,
from the hard drugs he supplies,
oh, for money,
how humanity is so easily ignored when you have only visions of money in the eyes,
and oh, how easy it is,
how easy it is because of money to become dehumanised.