My countrymen resign themselves
To liars and their lies,
As years go by in monthly twelves,
And tell themselves, “Time flies.”
A dozen years have come and gone,
Two dozen, maybe three,
While honesty it seems has flown
And lies are currency.
A candle let me hold beneath
The broad light of the sun—
“Where is an honest man?” Has death
Abducted every one?
You let the virus fester long,
First caring not to notice,
Who proffered virtue for a song,
Regretting with Miss Otis.
The common bond was cast away,
You gained a couple shekels,
But—as the curtain ends the play—
There’s no applause but heckles.
It could have been an artistry,
This human life your birth,
But—once forsaken honesty—
All gains exhaust their worth.