Mass production, and mechanisation,
A hopeful brave, exalted start
Inspired literature, music, all forms of art.
Ten thousand years, dream on, dream.
Such talents from our race
All through human labour,
With poetry and grace.
This bourgeois class, this wonder class
Had indeed accomplished and surpassed
More in three, short, hundred years
Than all glorious epochs past.
Yet, here we were, once again with our ancient jurisdictions.
We had the wherewithal for all,
Yet faced enormous contradictions.
For now there was too much industry, the system poor in health
When millions cry for basic things
And sale no longer profit brings
The system dies from too much wealth.
An endless plain, a giant sphere, and now a tiny global village.
A fight for shrinking markets: murder, rape and pillage.
This capitalist class, this bourgeois class
Was now senile with decay.
With one foot in the coffin
But very loath to lay.
Expanded to the limit with nowhere else to go
They rounded on each other: an appalling tale of woe.
Destroying value at its source, their system now outmoded,
Forced millions into World War I, our planet now exploded.