Alas, poor ghost!

Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.

Speak; I am bound to hear.

So art thou to choler, when thou shalt hear.

What?

I am big pharma’s mouthpiece,
A paid tool of some drug’s maker,
A walking shadow, a money’d player
That smiles and signs his name upon a page.

I was forbid to tell the secrets of my counting-house,
But now good Grassley has them out. List, list, O, list!

O God!

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