The plan-tackle Wretcheds
The treat-splintered Hodes
The monkey Non-lifters
That seize oft the holes

For them, did I back-break
For them, did I glean
To fill face-less Shifters
And grifting Untweens

Soon settle my Upstakes
Soon twiddle my Oughts
I less waste my Enjeans
I less waste my thoughts

No longer line Sprockets
To satsply their greed
I've lit my own rocket, now
I'll grow my own Need