Why?

Every four years we get to go along and vote,

And this we think an achievement of note,

Democracy we call it, with joy and glee,

But it’s really nothing but a travesty

An abomination, indeed a great crime,

That each and every torrid time,

We vote them in but can’t get them out,

No matter how much we rant and shout

And there they stay, ensconced and proud,

And live the life of reprobates loud,

While us they have long since forgot,

In fact, they couldn’t give a jot

And still we live our lives with great discontent,

As they waste our money and raise our rent,

And we hope again and again and now,

That they’ll change their evil ways, somehow

But days turn into months, years and more,

And again our dreams lie shattered upon the floor,

But still, we endeavour to walk this lie

And really what we have to ask is… why?