Nose into the scent approaching,
The scuttling paces as of little church mice;
One, two and another.
See them, all in white ‘grandmboobs’; wolves in a sheep clothing.
Scent their movements
Of tranquility in being
And if there be any sage
They will tag themselves;
And if there any good man be
They will be notched.
But see them stealing and mounting heaps of our hay in the far north and denying us of our daily rations.
But what can we do, for our hands are tied to our weak backs
And all we have left with us is to bank on Gods
And these Gods, we believe, are the honest witnesses
Gods, if there be any so?
Then they should be the witnesses in our dark courts-
Gods of forgery; Gods of theft; and the Gods of treachery.
Dare not trust men of today, for money is their bone of contention,
They will sing to earn your votes
But tomorrow, their powers will surpass your votes;
For they will bank on the same money
To illicitly erase the borders that binds their tentacles.
And there will be no more, your voices but their life threatening voices.
And life for you, will be a regret of coming to the world
For even your breathes will be monitored by the seconds
And your paces will be counted even in the heart of the dark nights.
Traitors, see them coming by, be mindful of their presence.