Nationalist Opera

It was a party Built for the minuscule elite Lost amid acres of scuffed marble, wanderers Newspapers & schoolwork People knew To speak in surreal, mechanical hyperbole Government, of course Monuments, behemoths Of relative luxury I know what you want to ask I want you to take the truth to the world Down in the city, loudspeakers Disappearing into a hidden gulag Centuries ago The monks appeared Every morning in the lobbies of our hotels A minder was beside them The monks followed us out into the parking lot