The world likes to argue
About paper slips
And shiny rocks
What is this idea
So infected, disturbed.
(Is this) civilization?
This elaborate painting
This intricate machine
Every man, every woman
A splinter, in this sinking boat
Our sails, sewn of useless currency
Weighted by precious metal
Roped by hunger, pain
This vessel, battered, beaten.
Torn, by seething waters
A mad ocean, psychotic
In its very being. A beast
Poked and prodded,
By liars, and killers.
By greed, and malice.
This beast, so ferocious,
It rages in our cities
It controls our societies.
It is this corruption,
Of a beautiful idea.
Once known,
As civilization.
Signed, a Common Man.
