the Big Beautiful Working Class (who needs to mercilessly devour the bourgeoisie: for the sake of our friends, siblings, lovers, parents, children, children's children, our comrades we'll never meet who live a globe away, their children & parents & friends & lovers, the memories (or even spirits if you conceive of realoity like that) of our past comrades & their friends, siblings, lovers, parents, children.
( ahem um, devour them as in politically - bloodlessly & non-literally, like a big old peaceful general strike that goes "boo!"
and scares the mean ol' industrialists so much they hand over the reins of power. yeah.)
that's our (humanity's) secret, officer....we're all crashouts
(i breka down weeping in the starbucks while imagingin i am becoming the increidble hualk)