A paradise where mammon reigns
and the sun it always shines
The wild fires char the foothills
and no one can afford to pay the bills;
But life goes on much as before
inside their gilded, golden shrines

The moguls and their minions
live among the palm trees and heather
in winding hills so beautifully adorned;
their passing will not be mourned
In the houses of the money lenders
They eat their meals together

The air hangs thick with incense
and artificial intelligence
A sense of mystery; of chaos
solitude within utter desolation;
Here long ago once stood
the so-called city of angels

In the distant future
when life appears again
upon this devastated land;
and the flowers bloom once more
Will the people still believe?
‘Here stood that city of yore’