There’s those who want to fix the world
And those who’re fixing the world.
There’s those who buy it
And those who don’t buy it.
Commemorating the suit,
Not those in the soot
With the world on their shoulders
And the world at their feet.
The Power and the Power,
Who work the land into an industry
Taking a mere couple of centuries to consume
What’d taken millions of years to produce,
Motivated by machines
Fuelled by fossilised trees that once harboured the CO2
That’s being released by their chimneys into clouds of concrete mist,
With the sound of hammers striking the anvil,
Creating sparks which ignite the sky,
While shutting us in –
Like a press bearing down.