The king makers unveil a new worthy son
Teach a young monkey a few old tricks
And let the best of the rabble whine or pine
Let the followers of unscrupulous creed
Master the craft of an age long greed
A march on the hill, a march in the creek
A march, and tear lines a side of the cheek

The fires give way to a dark purl of smoke
The angels take home more luckless souls
The law and its makers are left in a choke
Another worthy son lose a faith in an oath
Surrounds his sins with a fresh band of rogues
Fistful and furious the battle endures…

A fellowship of men, a pile of defeated ideas!
A conquered people dream away
Faraway, a mullah calls – the church bell rings
Another day is born, perhaps a new king
That may see not the calling of his time –
Since the oldies still defy death, death visits
Very the young

The earth endures all pain, the earth swallows
our pain
The wind rages again, the sand blown away
The toe of our buried rift looks around in glee
Which way will the mummy go?
But the oracle murmurs and prophet whispers

Shame, shame, we all call it shame
Then master the deed, damn the consequence
Let the children unborn fend for themselves
The ass is superior to the horse, when we seek speed
Take less care of the poor, since the rich has greater needs
Sell the soul keep the shell and then shall we grow
Not a shame?

Justice on the high screaming: “equality for all!”
Borehole for the poor, bottle for the rich
And tap for flowers in the garden of the rich
Jail term if a son commits a lesser crime
Plea-bargain if a son outgrows the law
A dark cloud gathers, and then comes the rain…

The bigot calls, the idiot harkens
Raindrops mingle with our tears
The wise dies, the unwise leads
Another rise of lies, the truth decries
But the battle endures.


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