Who would take a tree that respires
Fell it, skin it, drape it with wires?
Sounds like something the greedy sort
Would force on those they'd soon extort
The moguls that designed the grid
Have made so much from what they did
That now they feel they own us all
It’s time to make some towers fall
These endless lines conveying juice
Could be repurposed for a noose
And every pole along the road
Would help us give them what they’re owed.
Are You Reading Me?
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