American Morning

Wake up, yea, to see this beautiful world
Of skyrises, land rangers, androids pearled
Comfort’s ocean, fount of titillation
Man’s glory, wondrous civilisation!

We’ve lit the country whole but not our soul
Know each trade’s goal but not inner control
If need be, make dole, play nobleman’s role
For pleasure, man’s aim sole, we’ll pay each toll

Agents for travel’s lust, not donor’s trust
Practic logic’s proud gust, stirs trade unjust
“What we want comes first, ne’er mind what we must”
This age, lustrous crust, ‘tis but painted rust!

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