Here's How it Works
A piece of paper, filed somewhere, tells you
All you need to know: we own, poor sap,
And you do not, and, thus, though we don't
Lift a finger, we're entitled to a share of
Anything that you produce, and, should
You find yourself in need, you'll have to
Sign another paper making clear that you've
Surrendered more to us to own.
poem by Lawrence Beck
Added by Poetry Lover
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