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70 The Plebs: Their Chair The palatial ton load Behind the nice-to-rock chair groans, The chair with arms Though an armchair, To squatting And squealing Arms are the soldiers’ Who are the States’ And the States the Heads’ We will not label Tyrants Just because they jostle peasants. The paltry pyramidal organization Of our spherical portion Pivots them; But we chairs want our Rockers Unseated. With their armed arms Can they rid us And in vacuum reign? ...

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