All the little people
Holding up their little signs
In their little countries

All the little ideas
Floating in the ether
But no one sees the bigger picture

All the little urchins
Digging in the piles we make
Of the things we took for granted

You can look up high
To the ivory towers
What a waste of time
No one’s coming down

To see you
To help you
To wait on you
To feed you
To bring you up
To tell you what to do

All the little people
Holding up their little hands
For a grasp at power

Making promises
They will never keep
While they pursue their own agenda

Making money-go-round
While they take their cut
Sell back to you what you already own

You can look up high
To the ivory towers
What a waste of time
No one’s coming down

If you put your ear to the ground
You can hear
All the sorry little people

Dismal universal hiss
Of the disconnected
Talking in a whisper

All these little voices
Making little noises
It simmers now but will come to the boil

You can look up high
To the ivory towers
What a waste of time
No one’s coming down

To see you
To help you
To wait on you
To feed you
To bring you up
To tell you what to do