You Didn't Build This

it is addressed thusly:
A thought.
it reads:
Who can speak for whom, they ask
Who can claim this work is theirs
If I claim for one or other the task
I'm now master of their affairs;
The quiet reality they've now made
Of a game we made most fair
Is to plunder all, but yet forbade
The old master his own share;
History tells alas too well
How all such things must end
Not a shining city upon a hill
But the grave is 'round the bend.

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