Shoulders of giants

Where cords of civilisation are moored

The brittle guy ropes of our tree house world

I see men of law and plump senators

Laying blocks and digging foundation holes

New barriers rising high while I watch

Above where the arm stops, at the seam stitch.

There the claims of Captains of industry

Lead lines of blind leaders like Pavlov's bell

“All the silver I land belongs to me”

They cry so proud from high on the lapel.

Laying barbed wire which they freshly forge

Electrifying the tromba, notch and gorge

Dragging paper up the back by the cart

Reams in blocks yards thick on seams daily grow

Miles upon miles of statutes and torts

To form walls, tall and strong like Jerrico

At the entrances they make gates like Gates

Would charge fees to all who climb the breastplate.

It's about time we weren't all so compliant

They'll privatise the shoulders of giants.

Do Mssrs Musk, Zuckerberg, Venter, Brin

Feel that they could have achieved anything

Had they not in diligence caught coat tales

The thick braid between gold buttons scaled.

Licence royalties owed to Edison

Newton, Bacon, Faraday and whoever

Was the Babylonian that pressed on

Wet clay with stones way back in Nineveh.

Illiterate, I don't think they'd have one percent of the clients

They're all reliant

On the shoulders of giants.

This deft suspension above the deep shit

This tree house society of all us

Exists high in the sky, every bit

Borne on shoulders of countless Colossus.

Without the lookout post of libraries

We'll fall from the Eden of these high trees.

Make mine a Molotov, get defiant

They want privatise shoulders of giants.