Wake up, yea, to see this beautiful world

Of skyrises, land rangers, androids pearled

Comfort’s ocean, fount of titillation

Man’s glory, wondrous civilisation!

We’ve lit the country whole but not our soul

Know each trade’s goal but not inner control

If need be, make dole, play nobleman’s role

For pleasure, man’s aim sole, we’ll pay each toll

Agents for travel’s lust, not donor’s trust

Practic logic’s proud gust, stirs trade unjust

“What we want comes first, ne’er mind what we must”

This age, lustrous crust, ‘tis but painted rust!