When all’s obtained, nothing left to receive,
when the last box in the list has been crossed,
what is left of life, what’s more to achieve?
What now holds our sprightly spirits aloft?
Been everywhere, seen it all, done it all,
no place on Earth where the slate will wipe clean.
Now into empty sleep you start to fall,
for now there’s nothing left for you to dream.
Time after time tedium fills your glass,
and gambles away your endless supply.
Savour young memories of games on the grass
because under it is now where you lie,
learning this lesson, on your heart it’s stitched:
there can be no ambition for the rich.