* Conditions Apply

Wandering in the desert of pain
I reach an oasis - sporting -
"Money for Fame" - a beautiful hoarding.
With a wanton desire, born of boredom
I write my name in the sand grain.

With a whoosh and a whash
The water wriggles in chaotic thrash
And slowly emerges a mermaind plain.
Hands she me then a pot of gold chains,
To my thrill born of egoistic disdain.























Suddenly with the same whoosh and whash
The desert turns into the lucifer's own lair
And shiver run down my body already gone lame.
Tiny letters spring out of the hoarding
A shimmering star followed by
"Conditions Apply"...
"Beware, money for fame but also
Bondage to Devils own whimsical games."