Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Going
to Concrete Floor Space Hungry
Our masters couched
in swollen luxury
Are flown in
government craft to their private pleasures
While American
workers wait in soup line misery
Or sleep on floors because
the planes never come
We are the abandoned
over whom they fly
Sending acronyms to
beat us and demand our papers
Those uberklasse
gauleiters of the sky -
More champagne,
please! Such Great Gatsby capers!
Some call them
morons, but they’re as smart as can be
It’s just that they
don’t give a (bitcoin) for the likes of you and me
