Let us raise a glass to the common man, to his common wife
And his thick-skulled neighbors. How we depend on their
Mindless toil, and how we're hemmed in by their fear of change,
Their love of kith and kin, and tradition. What isn't already
Known is suspected. Strangers are dangerous. Deviance
Of any sort from what they in their dullness consider the word
Of their god, is to be extinguished. They've erased our future.
What should we serve in the glasses we raise after they've given
Hemlock to us?