Oh holy market, give us a sign. We have wandered in the desert, been seared by the burning Bush, and genuflected at the feet of the Golden Bull.
Your invisible hand doth smite our fundaments, and its middle digit doth lead our vision heavenward. Give us the wisdom to heed your warnings, yet send us no more the mad prophets who speak the twisted tongues of Babel.
Deflate not our assets, oh holy market, and trickle down upon us the manna against which we have borrowed in your name.
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