AFTER a round of inquiry,
 descending into parody,
  we drew our lots
  for carrycots
 and spoke, at last, with clarity:

WE'RE rich, as we were born to be:
 this isn't cant or heresy,
  it keeps us wrapped,
  not stuck or trapped,
 and so you can't embarrass me

ALONE, and with our fortune bare,
 we choose this out of everywhere:
  forget the rest,
  for we're the best
 and what is neither here, nor there,

AGAIN, is our great rectitude
 like oil: buried, rich and crude --
  the wind blows wild
  on this child
 swallowed in ineptitude