To Some Will Come A Time When

I Mean You Last As Long As Lies.

Your Dollar Is Your Only Word, / The Wrath Of It Your Only Fear. / You Build It Altars Tall Enough / To Make You See, But Your Are Blind; / You Cannot Leave It Long Enough / To Look Before You Or Behind.

The Typical Entrepreneur Is No Longer The Bold And Tireless Man Of Marshall, Or The Sly And Rapacious Moneybags Of Marx, But A Mass Of Inert Shareholders, Indistinguishable From Rentiers, Who Employ Salaried Managers To Run Their Concerns.

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.

Do You Hear The Children Singing?