This is the roach world,

this green and wondrous place we live,

We don’t know where or when or how,

But somehow we take more than we give.

Infesting slowly over rolling hills,

We believe the lie that we don’t deserve,

the kingdoms of the other realms

and pale white clouds hanging over lazy herds.

What would our forefathers say,

If they saw our poverty today,

Would they kick us out for irresponsibility,

Or would they, in shock, have nothing to say.

We are not roaches! We are not just men.

We have inherited this planet to rule over and grow,

To multiply and fill the earth,

Never to scientifically burn this slow.

We are kings and priests, warlords and gods,

Have we not created our very fear?

So, turn away, and look not on they,

who fear success and poverty and who never hear.

Inherit the earth, ye wisdom of old,

take back your reins, and build up your coaches,

teach your people of wealth, and knowledge and growth,

My god, do not let us be a nation of roaches.