Dealing in the Gravy Train
I’m outside the window
With a handful of jokers
And a mind full of Zen
The train keeps a-rolling
No-one is getting off
Unseen, changing landscapes
Pass snouts in the trough
But outside the game
I find I’m really on the train.
That’s the trouble – we’re all still in the game whether we want to play or not. There’s no escaping it. The tendrils are global. Even the depths of the jungles in Brazil, Africa and Vietnam are all buzzing to the sound of saws.
Every tree is a potential profit; every scrap of land a plantation; every animal a piece of meat.
The name of the game is profit and the expansion of markets.
The planet has never looked more finite.