They cut down the pink

Rhododendron bushes

Outside the millionaire's house.

Done out of a frantic psychotic

Episode, from what I hear.

The front lawn is so bare now,

So devoid of feeling; just freshly

Sheared stumps and green grass

And the lolling vine-sheathed

Brick of the wealthy. Imagine,

So much money used for that.

Imagine, building your own tomb.