The
few hundred boxes
It
tells a story of a night
When
the cave door is opened
The
goods all fall out
The
hunters have a long night
Carrying
the boxes away to count
It
is a long day to tabulate it
The
cash, jewelries, wrist watches and branded bags
It
isn't about saving from young
It
never happens ask the working adults
Many
retirees can't have the wealth
They
live crying for help
The
hunters will carry on to search
The
mother lode they will seek to find
This
is part of the loot found
They
will investigate for many more
The
henchmen of the previous regime
They
will feel nervous every night
Will
the hunters come knocking doors?
In
the wee hour of the morning?
Don't
wait for it
They
better hurry say their pieces
It
will save everyone time
For
the hunters will surely come
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