Oh Countrymen; Here and Afar
Why do we insist on our national pride?
In the West, to the East. Up North and down South. Each of us countrymen, dying alone.
Might there be a little hypocrisy? From as early as five, we are taught we’re all the same, regardless of race, religion, creed or sin. Yet we insist on believing the lie that our nation must stand together and our children must go to die.
We are not of our nation, our nation is of us; overlords and slaves - Democracy lied.
So long as your human heart beats steady and true, your government does not care about you; you’re free they exclaim, but now off to bed and remember to follow the party line.
They seized your gold by 6102 on April 5th - more severe than the bombs they dropped; the guns they forced your children to shoot, or any of the war crimes for the good of the state.
They killed your industries, left you powerless - alone again and suffering. The dark all around, no electricity, no food and no love from your Big Brother.
They stole your money; your time, your work and your pleasure in this life.
Bail out the banks? No we wouldn’t say that; they’re all now insured, don’t you see? We made some money for them and for me. Now we’ll let you toil and labour while we decree, this is healthy for our banks, my pockets, but don’t worry; this won’t hurt you - just don’t panic and ask for our - rather, your money - its safe where it is.
Stop, no, that’s selfish! You can’t keep the value that you produce alone - you must share it with us, and we’ll protect you all from criminals like those awful mobsters and their protection rackets.
Taxation is a contract you see? You work for us! You signed your name on our registry, it’s a contract you see, here you are slave number: 6103. It surely can’t be theft, since you’re my property - no no, but we let you roam free!
If you don’t like it, leave! You just have to carry this pass; you belong to us - we can’t let you go! Stay awhile, all nice and cosy in your new 15 minute city? How about that new CBDC? It expires in a tomorrow, so spend - don’t save, there’s no need to build. You’re a cash cow, a golden goose; but cows produce methane and gold is no use.
Who is John Galt? What is money? Is war really peace?
Run back to your fatherland, He seems to care an awful lot - he needs your labour, slave may it be. We, the people, are all the same. We live alone, we die alone, let our individuality, our labour and our achievements remain.
