In these Ingrian Lands Dm G A
Autumn wrings its old hands
Brick and mortar will die
Not renewed like the rye or the compost of the
Discarded tomes of prose and verse Bb F C G
Sheaves of long-forgotten songs Bb F A
We’ll turn the trees into new paper
Which the cycle prolongs
Humans serviced and cleaned
For their first day at work
Come admire their sheen
How could you deride the
Precision that designed that person
To learn to network with the best
Wired only to accept the values
That operate in the West
Now the ice of the lake
Sweeps the red tape away
And the bureaucrats break
Their last hundred at the bar
Now gravity don’t want their office
Watch it float up into space
It slips out of the bankers’ clutches
And they give up the chase
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