Taking the P out of Profit
Postulate power in pompous perspiring palms.
Preceding the pursuit of poisonous profit plans.
Padlocks soon policing the previously panoramic.
Precursor pushing a pathway to paranoiac panic.
Pallid pallor produced by our now paltry pickings.
Potentially pacifying us by their platonic preachings.
Polyphonic pollution by they, the patently parasitic.
Piling pure pressure on we, the paralytically prosaic.
Padded place proffers only the politest protection.
Permeating now, for the protagonists predilection.
Penetrating now, we are paddywacked and paling.
Paradoxically the price of progress not worth paying
Makes me think that ...
Alliterating and arresting: Loot provides a potent peek into price, pay and profit. Once he has taken the P, what do you have?
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