Don't you wonder sometimes how a man can endure
Knowing that he's a provocateur,
Like the fellow who worked for our secret police
And ruined the professor, Don Jose Solis?
But among all the jobs one might see as a curse,
People labor at one that is probably worse.
They work to subvert our democracy,
And they treat honest folk as the enemy.
Should they be found out, they'd be rightly hated
By those they have roundly manipulated,
But somehow they cope with the private disgrace
Of being paid agents in cyberspace.
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