The new populism is a shell game—
Meant to obfuscate who is to blame
For the people’s pain
(For the people’s pain)
I know that seems a might insane;
Let me take a moment to explain.

This was supposed to be about the elites,
Not the aesthetes.
What was our crime? Finding the time
To improve our minds.
(To improve our minds)
What you seek, we sure find,
While you stumble around blind.

I guess you make this stink, cuz you think
That we think we think
Better than you
Ever have or ever will.
Spread the news;
It's true!
That’s what we do.
Compared to you,
We’re better, smarter, kinder, wiser,
Fuller, more enlightened; our lives are brightened.
Do not act so surprised.
You sought wealth—
We sought truth.
And now you cannot recognize
A truth before your eyes—
Self evident and undisguised—
We don’t need to tell you lies.
You’d heed our words if you were wise.
Instead you choose just to despise us, and pay us no mind,
And be mindless,

Need to find a victim on whom to lay your blame, someone to declaim.
You’re filled with so much angst and shame.
We remind you of the ways you’ve failed
Our minds are a siren’s wail, the unattainable.
We’re your objet petit a—
That which you sought but never got.
And now you look at your lot in life—so rife with strife—
How’d the world’s plans go so awry, and why oh why
Don’t we want what you wanted? And our trials seem so strange—
We seem deranged and so you rage—so you rage—so you rage!
Rage!
Rage!
Rage!

The new populism is a blind fold
You think liberates while you do
What you’re told.
(Oh what you’re told)
Can’t you see, that you’ve been rolled
You think you’re bold but you’re just a dolt

You want the rich to be every men, cuz maybe then
You could go and grab a beer with them.
(Oh and be friends)
It let’s you think, now and again,
That you’re just as good as them!

This is no Truman’s Show. The jape’s in view.
I’m sorry to inform you of the truth: you’ve been duped.
They’re not laughing with you—you’re the fool.
It’s all a ruse and, though it’s cruel, it’s true that this comes as a function
Of your trust’s willful malfunction.

“Divide ut regnes” is these bastard’s clever way
Of laying waste to our base, to affect effacement, abet abasement,
Ensure encasement of braincases. Tripod enslavement
paves the way for this hateful state to make greater the great hoard
of wealth, and by stealth convince

Half the people that they’re their equal,
That they’re more than SQL entries,
That these pleasantries extend the hand and horn of plenty,
Like there were no sentries at the gate that await
They that dare seek to break from their station, and rise above their placement therein.

You are thrice a failure, to be sure:
First to see or listen,
Then to seek division instead of learning,
Third to keep on yearning
For that dream where earning
Is a proof of worth, not birth, that work will work to purge your dearths,
As you feel the quirt and blood spurt on the earth,
You trust its worth!
Worth!
Worth!


Scio verum, quod populismus novus panis et circenses solo est, sed non videtis.
Ille scio, sed tamen spero quod discatis magistros detestari.
Spes sit inanis.