The future is
a golden tower growing.
Its walls aglow with gifts
it is bestowing.
With hungry heights and lurid lights
it drains my days and fills my nights
and when I wake, I’m thrilled with what we’re sowing.
I leave for work vim-and-viglorious
and come back tired but prosperous
and barely give a thought to what I’m owing.
But in my dream, the tower’s glowing
and the growth it keeps on growing
and I see heaven’s ribs are showing
but I have no way of knowing
what extraction’s undergoing,
from what source these boons are flowing,
what monstrous mouths are madly mowing,
but we’re going where they’re going
their thirst it fuels our to-and-froing
and this ride it isn’t slowing
while their prophet’s profit’s growing
while tasty tides are undertowing
while human winds are wildly blowing
Not sure what came over me there.
Please allow me to draw your attention to this next slide.