On an evening of despair I invited poverty,
The bitchy girl was docile, not the fragile kind,
She settled down in my unfurnished apartment,
She made herself comfortable there, needless to say Madam' felt at ease,
She was shortly dressed, I almost believed she was naked,
She liked my rags and the skin which recovered my bones,
She stretched out near me, on my dingy mattress,
And in a confident tone, not wary for a penny,
Whispered to me, as I was cold,
" Come with me my bro', I shall show you my cemetery, "
" I shall make you a bedridden invalid, death will be bittersweet. "
But I told to this viper to keep silent, to shut up,
But Poverty is carnivorous, Poverty is Lucifer,
Then I fell ill because I listened to her crap,
I spat out my life because of too many concerns,
Because of too much contempt and isolation,
I gave in to the lady in black an evening of despair,
Then she gave me a spot, not far from her luxury hotel,
But she was nice, she offered me a golf,
Not a golf in eighteen holes, no, a single hole,
A hole where I fell on my knees,
In the cold and the mud,
Where die the types with no penny,
Or no kisses to take them out of this hole.
Then I closed my eyes and Poverty left,
I joined heavens, easy and carefree,
And then above, they say,
The place was full of angels and friends...