Rats Poem by Mason Maestro

You see them in the boardroom, you see them in the street
Nodding at the hangman, shuffling to the beat
Sharp teeth in the shadows, a whisper, not a roar
They'll sell you for a nickel, then come back for more

Chewing through the cables
Dancing on the tables
One hand in your pocket
The other's on the trigger

They'll smile at your funeral, they'll weep at your trial
File down your principles and stack them in a pile
No loyalty but profit, no face, just a name
You'll never see them coming—but you'll know who to blame

'It wasn't me, ' they squeak in the dark
'We only followed orders, we only left our mark.'
But the walls are all collapsing, and the water's rising fast
And the ship's too full of Rats to ever reach the past

Nests in the foundations
Poison in the rations
But the ruins that they made
Are rotting in the sun

Who took the call from the private jet?
Who dropped the mask when the cheques were set?
Who wept on TV, then cashed the cheque?

Who lobbied hard for the Russian loans?
Who turned the NHS to standing stones?
Who's got the receipts but lost the phone?

It's not corruption, it's networking
Not a bribe, just a consulting fee
Rats don't steal—they just nibble
Rats don't lie—they just wriggle free