Thieves we allare, high or low                                                                                                                                         Working in the vineyard                                                                                                                                                 Devising no means to to know                                                                                                                                        When the Owner will tell                                                                                                                                                His servants to blare the trumpets                                                                                                                                 On the four extremities of this baleful confinement                                                                                                         To freeze us into an everlasting attention                                                                                                                      Who against the dictates of sane minds                                                                                                                        Continue to rape and reap                                                                                                                                            What is not ours to covet                                                                                                                                               In the open                                                                                                                                                                    Or in the closet