Don't you think:
That we could sign
So to us just one to two percent belong
And thousands will throng around us?
Don’t you think:
We could blast ourselves in ether
And to the last drops of our beings
By the packaging be coned?
We could, but —

Don't you think:
That we could make our images appear
(A thousand-fold, in false colours)
Earth-shattering?
Don't you think:
We could gild ourselves
On forty rungs
(for the unsung common folk en masse)
Be many moons enthroned?
We could, but —

Don’t you think:
We could sign
Even resign our minds
And in this land
(Like nine day wonders)
Play up and down and back and forth
To return later on
Completely stewed
Long forgotten
Just turning in ever-decreasing circles?
We could, but —