Each day a gift sent to the rift

To save them from the squalor.

A life I lure to spare the poor,

But never the white-collar.

The power, great, painless to take,

I never could abuse.

How could they know it’s time to go?

No, that’s for me to choose.

Now, there are those who dare oppose

My godly overseeing.

But it is them, I tell you, friend,

Who do all the deceiving.

Life in my hands, with it I plan

To purge the world so numb

Of those deserving while preserving

All the precious scum.