Some humans are ants
But without purpose
And as pointless
As sugar free syrup.

Oh listen to how
We half halfheartedly mumble-cheer
For the clean cut kids in perpetual training
Not growing up
But getting old before their time

Doing it for their fathers
Those half forgotten sportsmen
Captains of unimportant sports teams
Captains of dull industry
Weirdly proud of an inability to read any book the whole way through

Guns in the basement safe
Mistresses in the holiday home
While the trophy wives
Maintain that difficult balance
Of privilege and prejudice

Polite society rotting inside
Losing evenings to boredom and alcohol
They believe in man against nature
Not about beauty
Rather about winning

The Alpha Dogs
(a debunked concept , just by the way)
Their main talent is following
(oh the irony)
They are fragile fans of fascists
In neat white sports shirts

Ants without purpose
The blandest hive mind
No poets
No Painters
Souls are on sale
Barely used
(watch out they bite)