"...Leaning togetherThis is the way our dreams end
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men."
Not with a bang, but a pink slip.
Bravo, Barry. You could not have eviscerated your own ideals better with a samurai sword. But as seppuku is the course taken by the man of honor, you would not have chosen that method, anyway.