Who are the ones who cry for freedom?
Is it those who live in mansions?
Who rape our forests to make their fortunes?
Fat bellied goons who are unsatisfied gluttons?
Those who spreads the miasmic fumes we breath
They lurk like mosquitoes spreading their disease
They speak like they hear the cries of the innocent
Asking deception in their perfumed scent
Their slogan for unity is a cry of dissent
Their calls for reason is marked with violence
The weak are left to fend for themselves
When in yellow the masses march for freedom
With force they shut silence
They stamp out their achievements on the walls marked in history
They bribe old folks and villagers with their well made stories
When critical minds lay out their questions
Their ears are deaf to well argued intentions
So who are the ones who cry for freedom?
Is it those who live in mansions?
Who rape our forests to make their fortunes?
Fat bellied goons who are unsatisfied gluttons?
Who are the ones that cry out for our freedom?
The citizens who know that under tyrants
We’re doomed!
Note: Just a poem I churned up thinking about yesterday (July 9th 2011)
