The system - or life - punishes the good,
Rewarding selfishness and rule-breaking
By those who smile, but then trample, in mud,
Dreams of the poor folk whose hands they’re shaking.
Though lips praise God, their minds are forsaking
His message of love, not covetousness,
Completely focused on what they’re taking,
Quoting scripture, so folk dare argue less.
Blow this smokescreen away, make them confess
Their guilt, measured in heart attacks and blood,
In people placed beneath money-making,
Indoctrinating, leaving us this mess.
We won’t complain because we’re all so good,
Or could it be we’re scared? Now who’s faking?
Thur 5 July 2007
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