... If my pen could speak it wouldn't say a word
only just weep a silent weep not a peep to be heard
If my heart could sing it would be a silent tune
one only an anarchist could hear while gazing at the moon
My feet drag a dance in half step to the beckon of thy thoughts
while my eyes roll lazily revealing all that is not
I cannot go on deceiving thee with all that is fine
payment for enjoyment certainly has not a heavenly shine.
Organized altruism is a prestidigitarian trick
where your money goes is not to feed the sick
It's a political pit just shoveling in shit
Feeding the hungry with the propaganda they spit
Pokemonic? I remember they once saying
What a joke for that I must start praying?
A spent day on your knees I'm afraid
cannot save a life from the diseased they've made
So I point my pen like fingers at oui/we
myself and I are also guilty that includes me
The actions I make we decide our fate
We must stop starving ourselves, It's liberty at stake!
A band-aid fix for hunger will only get us through the day
To slay the political beast of burden would be a savory buffet.