Power in possession is like a house pig at a dump No matter how trained, how clean, dirt is always ideal Power suits, ties, and corporate briefcases, eager for a rump Courting, mating, procreating all without an appeal Hopefuls all eager to suit up in the gooey gruesome grub Pledges, speeches, oaths, all made before the communion The cup awaits, frantic, all battling for the broth Drinking, eating while covering treason in layers of onion For the pain to unravel, the pig will surely concede Deep, ducking into the murky pond of the spoils For more were before and much more to proceed We met it like that! The dunk an inherent choice It is clear, put in a sty one will get dirty And out of it, the pig will produce dirt And to dunk in ones dunk, its respect shown at thirty And besides they met it like that, this path of dirt
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