What we've got is an amalgam of spent ideals,

an incomprehensible mismatch of spent ideals.

Self-congratulatory edicts spit from gold-plated mouths,

that will never understand what it means to miss a meal.

Don't tell me what I need until you've needed anything.

Private-school anarchists with bought trains of thought,

donned in T-shirts screaming slogans of wars never fought.

And I'm supposed to hide my change?

For who and for what?

To appease the piss-ants pretending their haves are have-nots?

I know what you came out here for.