and when the lies run supreme
Coin of state nothing more,
but treachery and deceit
When the the echelons of high and mighty
remain pompous and oblivious
to the death and disease,beneath
Laughter echoes amidst
these brethern of fortune,
while a mother mourns her babe,
not far away,lost to urban decay.
I sharpen my ears
to peculiar sounds,
things I wish to hear
A grinding stone,
A burning furnace,
A clanker of metal,
and whispers
from few rebellious minds.
Disappointed I move away,
for the fire that burns the wicked,
the hand that grabs the corrupt,
the craddle that rocks the just,
remains extinct,
in this city of lust
this land of impure...