by Nick Gisburne
The Ruling is the destiny we dread
A designated future, one of three
Be Worthy, be Delightful, or be Dead
But which of them, for you, is it to be?
The Worthy, given duties they deserve
Rebuild the shining cities of the state
The majesty, the empire, they preserve
And from this labour do not deviate
Those classified Delightful are discrete
Such work demands a discipline of mind
Their bodies serve the privileged elite
A diary of vice shall be assigned
The Ruling of this Board now follows: DEAD
Please grip the metal bars and look ahead
