Swiftly sprints the slender Cheetah,
running smoothly as Velveeta.
But right now it can't rouse its feet-ah,
and slogs just like a Walmart Greet-ah.
Cheetah Speed [Lyric Poem]
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As I've traveled around the globe,
I've felt the music from some souls --
Those who exude, in part or whole,
a secret and sacred rhythm.
And when their tunes did call to me
I felt a yearning to be free
to dance and sing, if out of key,
yet ever so resonantly.
Who could have known that I'd go deaf.
With ear to ground, nothing was left.
It felt like a horrible theft
from all (and yet received by none.)
I heard the last gasp and wheeze
of Industry's fatal disease.
Why would we need any workers?
We don't need factories!
We'll grow it all from nanobots
in a closet where you please.
There'll be a 3-D printer, printing
printers endlessly.
You won't hear another mention
of Industrial Disease.
The question is not how or where
to make it, that'll be a breeze.
The question on economist's minds...
that strains their expertise.
Is how will slobs who have no jobs
pay for their indices?