My hand does not grieve over the loss
Of this untouchable hour of the night;
Rather these tips pass over your Legal Tender,
Seeking to finesse with private contacts
The dividends of your inky violets,
Wanting Cash in Hand, wanting
One more run of your Stock
Under plates Justice dares not confiscate,
Until G-Man can trace the evidence
Of corruption, of Treasury despoiled at ease,
Wanting Counterfeits of quality, wanting
Nullities of this hour of the night………….
No, hand does not grieve this loss.
For only by this niggard hour
Be coward Flesh exposed —
A mutual dependency of Felons,
A criminal Conspiracy intent on slickering
The vaulted Treasury of One Nation, under god.
Eugene Zandler, 2003