Don’t let me go
Get me crazily talking  
About the impossible future
We’re walking
The path of the wayward souls
Reaper is stalking
The warmongerings’ hordes
Are so liberally
Hawking
Incessantly squawking
Gets nothing
But old
Every tech exec’s
Former morality
Sold
So don’t shift me
So swiftly
Back to my opponent’s
Preferred
Most expedient truth
In the moment
For mine
Is in rhyme
Out of timeless
An omen
And showmen
Beholden
Invisible hands
Have all folded
Theirs filled
With supplies
My demands
To compliantly
Privately
Master the plans
The grand scheme of things’
Theory strings’
Recognized
Brands
Come to shambles again
No more vaults to defend
No ignoble stock
Options
They’d have left to spend