Though I’ve roamed through many places,
None there is that my heart troweth
Fair as that wherein fair groweth
One whose laud here interlaces
Tuneful words, that I’ve essayed.
Let this tune be gently played
Which my voice herward upraises.
“A titanic battle is about to begin, a Darwinian struggle between competing psychopathies. Everything is for sale now — even the human soul has a barcode.”