I hit him again and again and he bled.
Took his house, his servants and riches.
I was on the high hill.
Celebrating myself like a croc in the sun.
I acquired his life by beating him to death.
I gave toys to the poor kids and told myself I was good.
I gave jewels to the women of this jandour city, they loved me.
Yet no matter how much i threw out the burnt ticket,
it would reappear in my pocket.
Indicating of all places my destination after this short thrill.
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