White faces, formed by fat filled cheeks. Oh so chic, these cheeks of greed. Gossips forever feeding on your amended freedoms. These buttered bastions on Ruperts barricade offer you feigns and jabs. jobs are for the wealthy, from the wealthy and by the wealthy. paise says saint smith.

According to the gospel of these pig jowled apostles, glory comes to those atop the sands of change, praise you lord schumpeter my eternal trumpeter playing to the choir in the castle.

instead of four freedoms these horsemen give out tax cuts, first bite is theirs, next their horse’s. Your turn will come, after you arrive on the other shore. Fooled ya again haven’t they?

–Alliterate