Ode on the Conference on the Abolition of Nuclear Weapons in Iran.

We march in step. We don’t know where we’re going.
We don’t know what we’ll do when we arrive there.
We hope someone will tell us when we’ve got there.
Meanwhile we march in comfortable conditions.
We’re told our marching is completely vital.
Our uniforms are utterly in fashion.
They bear insignia on cuffs and collars.
We do not know the meaning of the symbols.
For safety’s sake we all salute each other.
We do not carry weapons on our persons.
If there are weapons we do not discuss them.
We know that there is danger in the future.
The future is the road that we must follow.
We follow orders which we cannot fathom.
Our master is a man who is respected.
We do not know quite why we must respect him.
We have been told that we are to respect him.
We always do the things which we are told to.
We must not question any of our orders.
We do not even need to be instructed.
We always do what we would have been told to.
Our discipline is absolutely perfect.
It is a shameful thing to ask a question.
We know that asking questions is forbidden.
We are afraid of breaking regulations.
There is no reason why we should be frightened.
Our honour is the tramping on the roadway.
Our future is the glow on the horizon.
Our nightmare is that we might ever waken.

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