Filthy Men
With clean hands, they’ll present themselves,
But we know they are all the same.
We decide only to waste our votes,
And somebody wins the game.
They’ll take the vacated seats,
And won’t bother to stand and move.
To mask this, they’ll find distraction,
Use the media so we’ll approve.
They’ll locate the nation’s treasure,
Exactly from where they seat.
Bodies remain still, hands crawl to get it,
They’ll use their powers to make that unseen.
The nation grows worse,
They won’t even lose sleep.
They’ll start pointing fingers;
It’s fortune and power they want to keep.
They’ll set the stage for battle,
They’ll summon the cameras in.
Those who point with the most gold in finger,
They shall be who’ll win.
We only see the aftermath,
By then, the country’s already deeply ill.
We suffer from the aftermath,
And it’s them we’ll call for the heal.
We’ll never heal.
