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Golden is a celebration between me and you, in this jungle of capitalism.
Silver is the colour of our machete - we are working through this impassable coppice
Platinum rebounds, finally!
The Pie Chart delivers the promise of order and clarity presented on the power point.
Mother Nature won't be offering any bail outs!
No, she won't. Because, her measurements are exactly- what we really need.
She; alone, deems precision, conciseness, and merits her own worth.
Who are we to reply with our contention; - after all the time we've been given?--
we cry- in our final hour- no!...wait.
Alas, she has been granted the final decree.
Quietly, and gracefully she has whispered and spoken
for eons; while we have listened- without hearing
Her voice ringing- still. The sound has long since faded into whispers emitted by conch shells. Resounding golden ratios. Strategies of divine proportion on the trading floor: To conquer me, obey me. My rules, my constructs are artifice.My hand forces all into slots with sharp edges to slice and compact the unnecessary, remaking the world in the fashion I wish to see it.
Her shining symmetry, no less rigid than my algorithm, is a golden band. She holds the world together in one endless explanation of logic.
Sell. Sell it all. I see the patterns emerging once more. Diamonds are bleeding from Earth's core.
Rubies are the the goth painters.
Coral is a preacher.
Sapphires are for Playboy bunnies.
Emeralds are for the CEO's wives.
Onyx is a teacher.
Pearls are for the elder hopes.
Plastics are the children's jokes.
Opal is a leecher.
She; alone, deems precision, conciseness, and merits her own worth.
Who are we to reply with our contention; - after all the time we've been given?--
we cry- in our final hour- no!...wait.
Alas, she has been granted the final decree.
Quietly, and gracefully she has whispered and spoken
for eons; while we have listened- without hearing
Her voice ringing- still. The sound has long since faded into whispers emitted by conch shells. Resounding golden ratios. Strategies of divine proportion on the trading floor: To conquer me, obey me. My rules, my constructs are artifice.My hand forces all into slots with sharp edges to slice and compact the unnecessary, remaking the world in the fashion I wish to see it.
Her shining symmetry, no less rigid than my algorithm, is a golden band. She holds the world together in one endless explanation of logic.
Sell. Sell it all. I see the patterns emerging once more. Diamonds are bleeding from Earth's core.
Rubies are the the goth painters.
Coral is a preacher.
Sapphires are for Playboy bunnies.
Emeralds are for the CEO's wives.
Onyx is a teacher.
Pearls are for the elder hopes.
Plastics are the children's jokes.
Opal is a leecher.
