Politicians. Little Tin Gods On Wheels.

A People Always Ends By Resembling Its Shadow.

Ye May Kill For Yourselves, And Your Mates, And Your Cubs As They Need, And Ye Can; But Kill Not For Pleasure Of Killing, And Seven Times Never Kill Man!

We Have Learned To Whittle The Eden Tree To The Shape Of A Surplice Peg, We Have Learned To Bottle Our Parents Twain In The Yelk Of An Addled Egg. We Know That The Tail Must Wag The Dog, For The Horse Is Drawn By The Cart, But The Devil Whoops, As He Whooped Of Old; It's Clever, But Is It Art?

But Till We Are Built Like Angels, With Hammer And Chisel And Pen, We Will Work For Ourself And A Woman, Forever And Ever, Amen.

Lord God Of Hosts, Be With Us Yet, Lest We Forget--lest We Forget!