you are so self-centric full of yourself like we should worship you we don't matter to you only your wishes and aims nothing more or less you sell us like slaves make a fortune off our backs not caring if we love or hate you you're oblivious to us your image on all the magazines your fame is number one as you are number one we are number zero infinitely below you you our boss who loves all the cash we make you from our blood sweat and tears it has always been this way the moon spider feeding we food to the hunter but we say enough! this ends tonight...
from Gatoros and Crocos: Lower Case Murky Poems and Ditties