Who Is Rich? Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

I strive to be rich,
to travel on the roads,
of the capital cities,
in Sedan or limousine.

I work hard to be rich,
to find a lot in Beverly hills,
to buy an aircraft and
a hover to fly and float.

I work day and half night,
to be rich to others sight,
to smoke a cigar of an inch,
and a few girls to pinch.

scanty girls of Los vegas,
dress up, for a living,
trendy sad faced Indians,
walk alone for a living.

I want to be rich,
traveling as a rat,
through the holes of,
capital cities.

She wants to be rich,
He wants to be rich and
we want to be rich, but
people call us rich.