Tool.

A land with such a scarred surface.
Goldrush slaves are ruled by the perverse.
Excavation, an abomination white sterile earth.
You open up the ground and whole new curse.
A thousand brainless miners died with not a gram of gold.
Their arms and mediocre minds for peanuts sold.
But your life will be a gem for wanting, and how you want!
A piece for you a new toy for you to flaunt.
Envy tracks down like what the tyres leave in the mud.
Terminal wilting point, a fine collection of illusions.
He comes out of the hole with blindness and bruises.
Priceless as they take your life in a man made cave where the canary died so long ago.
And on go your mindless collegues as they tirelessly burrow.
Where did your purpose go just trying to feed your family and how you hated to question, you tool mmmmm. They´ve used you.
You love their tough talk their hard lines too.
Their mansions will never burn as your family loses it´s father.
Sometimes you´ll win it through grindstone pain. How proud!
These steel hearts obsessed with gain and exclusion win it through plain deceit. You worship them with teaparty ferver.
The sick joke is you´d back up the elite scum that´d see your face pushed into the ground.