Pride, true or false – the fuel that’s left
When so much of the rest is subsidised:
On one side of the State’s Grand Bargain lies
The profiteer –
A product of discretionary patronage,
Forsaking those, who, on the other,
Falling short of leverage,
Are kept in chains to serve
And so preserve ill-gotten gains.
We’re merely circling the drain.
We are the rent to nothing owed
And nothing owned, though all is spent:
The means to thrive have all been rent
Or sent as gifts to terraforming titans.
And interlocking dynasties perpetuate
While middlemen aspire to go higher
On the back of shame.
And round we go in circles down the drain.
Compacted by a contract of constraint,
We rise each day to greet the swill of torment.
Bent like doffing caps in gratitude, we thus
Augment the lives of those who live by platitudes.
And was there ever shown so much restraint;
Such acquiescence to indignity and needless pain
Or so much retribution owed in vain,
To those whose fault it is that we are circling the drain?