Your shameful need
Take up
Your own sackcloth
And ashes
For your purple pain
Oh mighty men of greed
It’s time you went
Your pompous passion is undone
Unholy hosts
Your time has come
And your crony cross
Stands, now, among
The kindling dross
Of your beloved spin
To burn your neoliberal sins
To dust
That we might live
And gods forgive.