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With empty heart and bank account
With money more than is enough,
With such incredible amount,
You can afford just any stuff,
Just any fancy, whim, caprice...
And make your life be idle and funny.
But empty heart is grave disease,
It can't be cured with all your money.
It can't be cured with all your gold
With all your jewelry and treasure.
To golden calf your soul is sold
Your life's a torture, not a pleasure.
Your soul is captured in the cell
Of your too ill imagination.
And you are waited in the hell,
And there is only one salvation
Don't be your bank account's slave
Put off your mind your money’s fetter
To help yourself and even save
Just know, another treasure’s matter.
Just fill your heart with warm and love
With true and natural impression
And live your life and be above
This empty, false and sordid passion.
With empty heart and bank account,
With money more than is enough
You think, the world goes you around
You're fool if you believe this bluff
There's only one and real measure
That fix the price to all this world
The life itself is real treasure
The love itself is real gold