Just a number!,
A unit ever shifting,
Changing with population,
With real world servitude,
With selling this place to ourselves,
At a bargain that makes bald heads,
Rich- with private property signs,
We sell the sacred to the swine,
In troughs of fake gold,
And who owns anything anymore?,
When more people think it\'s theirs,
To pave into nothing,
But the dead stories,
Everyone said not to talk about,
In positive dinner company,