Let me ask you one question Is your money that good Will it buy you forgiveness Do you think that it could I think you will find When your death takes its toll All the money you made Will never buy back your soul
There’s beauty in the silver singing river There’s beauty in the sunrise in the sky But none of these and nothing else can match the beauty That I remember in my true love’s eyes
They say that patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings steal a little and they throw you in jail. Steal a lot and then they make you king.
