When your whole life is organized around the con
Crime seems be the salary that pays righteously
And your sense of what is good becomes founded
On a new morality, methics of self, utility swerves
To gain greater and stronger footholds, pretending
That you're still climbing the rock face without a
Rope, when you're sitting in a meadow, surrounded
By belayers who shout, "climb faster, don't fall, take
Me with you;" you have all become drunk on the swindle
'To take is to make' and each of your other aphorisms,
Supposed fountainheads, and religiosities will go
Unspoken, unless they are challenged, in which case
What about is your ism and your penance is long
Life and fruitful propagation, at least for today
Roman Ryan 