Few can emulate me, though Many try. Few can match My hypocrisy.
I am the matrix, the simulacrum I am the goal, the dream That you always dream.
I am the image you want to see When you look, hopefully, At the mirror.
I am the fashion statement I am the chimera, the glitter That dazzles you.
I am greedy, self-obsessed The world pays homage To my confidence.
I am corrupt, I am a leech I have mastered the art Of being your master.
I am the hunter. I prey On your hard work and dreams. I own success.
Though you may rant and rave You don’t have the gumption To call my bluff.
I am the self declared success That you cannot question With your cowardice.
I am flexible, I am a chameleon. I change and chop myself – And you can’t.
My cowardice is a strategy My survival is the key – The brave die for me.
I get you the weapons For my battles. I negotiate Over dead bodies.
I snatch, I steal and I always Get my way. And anyways – I make the laws.
I have the banks, the money. And when I have don’t I print more.
I have no friends, no enemies I am loyal to none – Save myself.