puppeteers of realism,

Us puppeteers won’t cry real tears,
they may run down our strings.
Never be concerned about the dolls,
reap or rape what tomorrow brings.

Controlled events leave us carefree,
this we’re taught as we grow,
In summer we’ll have private beaches,
through winter we’ll ski slopes of snow.

Higher we are and here to rule,
it’s what father has done before.
Forget how life treats those fools,
they’ll keep coming back for more.

The people of that silly cowed lot,
only deserve what we’re to allow.
Given half an inkling of real life,
they’d discard they’re scraping bow.

We mustn’t teach them all we know,
just enough to tend the palace.
We live with champagne and caviar,
while they create, the mixed race.

To bring that lot from differing countries,
a stroke of genius don’t you think.
They argue and fight with them now,
leaving us clearly, always, in the pink.

Ah, we have such a heavy burden,
evolving, so to keep them under heel.
Able to go about our delightful lives,
giving them, the poor man’s heaven deal.