Plaster your name,
Little man

Sing your praises–
Prince of the beggars,
King of the gutters–

And don’t let mutiny
Keep you from building yourself up
All over again

Don’t let the twisted aches
Of those you call
Friend,
Patriot,
Citizen,
Be the cotton that fills the ears
Of the righteous,
That keeps you from everything
Your money can buy 

Don’t let the screaming voices
Of those you call
Less than,
Crackhead,
Failure,
Reach you in your ivory tower

Don’t let a rebuke of your shortcomings
Teach you anything
Other than how lost these sheep
Must truly be