Objectivism, born of Rand,
Stood up for Self across the land.
But Altruism dug in fast
So every self it could outlast.
Two thousand years of giving, giving,
Held tight to men of selfless living.
Two thousand years of “Who am I
To lift myself aloft and high?”
Two thousand years of “Don’t be proud,
Submerge yourself within a crowd;
Betray your independent mind
To mystic feelings mis-designed.”
Now, more and more do men exclaim,
“We need loud leaders for our shame!
Someone brash to take us down,
That we may crawl upon the ground!
A leader tough who’ll set us up
With poison in a deadly cup,
That we may rage and, raging, die,
In sacrifice of every ‘I’!
We’ll riot, fight, and clamor for
The right to leap through death’s sweet door!
We’ll be the best in history
To stomp man ‘neath society!
There is no ‘I’, there is no mind,
There is no right or wrong defined.
There’s only we, and we, and we,
Bowed in the mud before a tree!
The standard, instinct, it shall win,
When we’ve all paid for selfish sin,
And Mother Earth will be so glad
To see us going crazy, mad!
Insanity shall be our proof
That we are free from life and truth!
Believe! Believe! Believe! Believe!
Then drink the poison. Do not grieve,
But laugh at life, at love, desire;
Capture death in one last fire!
Be rapturous to nothing be
But nothing of non-entity!”

Objectivism, from AR,
Soars up like a golden star;
To some, a vision that dies;
To others, themselves that rise.

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