Against the way of things you must rebel
Not at all, peasants armed with barnyard tools!
Our high priests will condemn you all to Hell.
Our pundits will conclude that you are fools.
We set, and you must follow, all the rules.
We know, you see, what you can’t even dream
Of knowing. In our eyes are vast black pools
Of sheer sophistication. Makes you cream,
Doesn’t it? Yea, your doom we dare to deem!
Your dull concerns we smother with a smile.
All who aspire to play must join our team—
And then obey our captains all the while.
Your own thoughts? They are vulgar superstitions….”
So they assure us, our reserved patricians.