I am running in extreme slow motion,
With the moral of an upstanding notion
That to be without stress is a congress
Digest at what's respectfully the best.
Technocrats seem to have Cart-Blanche
Over the general populace in a sad trance
Of them not being able to see being free
As they are not experiencing tranquillity.
We roam from home, sometimes alone,
And are prone to be fearful and tearful
At what is in sight, a plight in sad flight
Of a governing hype of the poor''s gripe.
Come around, and duly with your wide vision
See so with precision the sad suffering derision
Of those in a positive position of high influence
Being grave in how they behave in negligence.
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