Torrential rain is telling me
That something’s going down
Soil around me parched beyond
In disparate shades of brown
The money men on bottom lines
Are seeking ways to drag it out
Squeezing all remaining moisture
Lending profits one last shout
Chomping everyone’s last morsel
Before tomorrow leaves us out
Selling tickets for the festival
With no audience to tout
We colonised and fraternised
Building empires great and good
Desecrating natures wonderland
We sucked the lungs out of our wood
Vain gloriously our temples high
Pleaded mercy for our wrongs
As if a choir could ever mitigate
The way we plundered natures songs
No comments:
Post a Comment