"We are starving. There is no more bread, and we have nothing to eat."
"Not my problem you don't work for your bread,"
as if he did not snatch away the grain by his own greedy hands and create filling bread for his own overflowing mouth.
"We are dying. There is no more medicine, and we're all ill."
"Not my problem you don't take care of yourselves,"
as if he did not buy all the medicine and raise prices so high
the gods themselves would not
and the rich man was satisfied...
Until they came knocking at his door one night;
As they devoured his flesh,
The ravenous zombies said,