Mixin’

Hangin’ with the fellowship today

Mixing with the global culture’s blood,

Waiting till the price is right

In the early market ‘hood.

Lookin’ at the town hall,

Chisellin’ the stone;

Dreams of expansions,

Designs upon the throne

Along the streets of jumbled pedigree

In the narrow darknesses of the mine,

We recruit militia for the unseen, ceaseless wars

There’s truffles for the swine.

We look beyond our boundaries

Where wizards plot with silver elves

There’s fodder for the factories,

Silken ambrosia charms – of course – for ourselves!

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