Richard Cory

They say that Richard Cory owns one-half of this whole town,
With political connections to spread his wealth around.
Born into society, a banker’s only child
He had everything a man could want, power, grace and style.
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be Richard Cory.
The papers print his pictures almost everywhere he goes,
Richard Cory at the opera, Richard Cory at a show.
And the rumours of his parties and the orgies on his yacht
Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he’s got.
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be Richard Cory.
He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch,
And they were grateful for his patronage and they thanked him very much.
So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read:
«Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head.»
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be Richard Cory.