What we've got is an amalgam of spent ideals,   an incomprehensible mismatch of spent ideals.   Self-congratulatory edicts spit from gold-plated mouths,   that will never understand what it means to miss a meal.   Don't tell me what I need until you've needed anything.   Private-school anarchists with bought trains of thought,   donned in T-shirts screaming slogans of wars never fought.   And I'm supposed to hide my change?   For who and for what?   To appease the piss-ants pretending their haves are have-nots?   I know what you came out here for.