Does it seem strange to you?
The confetti, the balloons, the mile-wide grins?
The victory dance to welcome in the heir to a state of disrepair?
‘Cause it sure seems strange to me.
They’re acting like they won the lottery.
But shouldn’t they feel terror at the task that lies ahead?
To feed and house the people that this system’s left for dead.
And could I have hit the nail much harder on the head?
It’s profits before lives. They are motivated by greed.
First they taught us to depend on their nation states to mend
our tired minds, our broken bones, our bleeding limbs.
But now they’ve sold off all the splints and contracted out the tourniquets.
And if we jump through hoops, then we might just survive.
Is this what we deserve?
To scrub the palace floors?
To fight amongst ourselves,
as we scramble for the crumbs they spit out?
Frothing at the mouth about the scapegoats that they’ve chosen for us.
With every racist pointed finger, I hear the goose steps getting closer.
They no longer represent us. Is it not our obligation
to confront this tyranny?