Who is he and why should I care?
What matter, what meaning, anywhere?
All is futility, effort a waste
When no bread remains for the hungry to taste.

You’ll toil and sweat for society’s good.
If you do what is right and do what you should,
The pockets of beggars will be full and fat
But what will posterity do after that?

The drunk lays down wasted. The well has run dry
and no change is left in the coffers to buy.
The tools are left rusting, all lined up in rows,
But the wise have all left, so nobody knows.

The beggar would **** him, the savior of all,
accusing the thinker for the pain of his fall.
The prophet of profit, destroyer of fools
He will not be tied or be tried by their rules.

He lets each one fall. The motors all cease.
When lights all go out, at last there is peace.
And when men of mind at last may go home
They’ll rebuild Atlantis that only they’ve known.