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A House of gold

A House of gold

People steal, they cheat and lie,
For wealth and what it will buy.
Don’t they know on their final day,
All their gold and silver will melt away.

The thief was focused only on acquiring gold for his own pot.

He would lie, cheat and steal to acquire his riches. All he wanted to do was to build himself a house of gold. A symbol of his own greatness.

He cared not who he had to step on to claim it.

Gold became his addiction, an itch he continuously needed to scratch.

The more he stole, the more he gathered and built his house. But there was always another pot of gold waiting for him at the end of the next rainbow.

With his eyes solely focused on his gold, he forgot the enemies he made along the way.

Those that he lied, cheated and stole from.

But they did not forget about him.

The day that his house of gold collapsed upon his body, trapping him underneath the rubble, all of his victims heard his cries for help.

They each watched as the weight of his gold slowly suffocated him.

Watching, but not lifting a finger to help.

His house of gold became his tomb.

I’d rather be in a deep, dark grave
And know that my poor soul was saved.
Than to live in this world in a house of gold,
My gold, the curse that dooms my soul.

The landscape of Arcadia is one of imbalance, yet here is much gold to find if one knows where to look.

The Lucky Charms are two that have developed quite the knack for knowing this.

They sniff out gold to add to their pot like sniffing out the next bottle of cheap whiskey.

Never caring who they wrong in the process.

Folks like Blacktooth and Blood Runners do not take lightly to their prizes being stolen.

And that is just coins on top of your treasure chest. Who knows how many victims of your Charms there are out there, just waiting for the day it all comes crashing down for you?

The higher you build your proverbial house of gold, the more chance you have of a fatal structural collapse.

And your house of gold that you have stolen will become your tomb.

What good is gold and silver, too
When your heart’s not good and true?
Sinner hear me when I say
It’ll fall down on your final day.

Your house is heading for a fall, Lucky Charms.

And when it does, O’ Death will be there.

Not lifting a finger to help, but waiting for the fall.

O’Death will walk over the rubble of your ill-gotten gains, and keep playing our instruments. We, la agentes de la muerte, will pick the rubble clean of your gold with surgical precision, as artists at work.

For you cannot take your house of gold into the afterlife with you.

All that will remain are two silver coins, placed over your eyes.

Can you hear the sound of your house crumbling?


El Mariachi Muerte