He was young; he was eager to share his ideas,
Now he just needed something to say.
He would gather his sources and soak them all up,
Then develop a thesis next day.
So he picked up a book and he pulled out a chair
And he found an idea that he saw in the air
And he called it his own since nobody would care
Where it came from; the idea was his!

You might see him sometime with his high-ranking friends,
As they argue, discuss, and converse
All those high-culture things that alliances bring:
Who is better, and who might be worse.
As they talk about politics, people, and crime,
Things he's never much thought about (not enough time)
He inserts someone else's ideas in his mind
Then hits play, and plays globalist over his wine
And believes what he says, and his conscience is fine.
Then he packs up his thoughts and he goes.