'Organised Tyranny'

In the mirror of our souls,

The reflection of democracy

Is faded and dying,

Washed in a storm of greed

The hands reach for salvation,

As we present

The compass of capitalism,

As the means to an end

We manufacture the wars,

We sell the means

To annihilate the protesters,

As we promote the dreams

The false promise of freedom,

A lure to deceive

The hopes of us all,

As they waft and they weave

The spirals that lead,

The descent into hell

Lead by the organisers,

Who have weapons to sell

To tyrants and dictators,

Who play the great game

That war is necessary,

It's civilisation who gains

The mirage in a desert,

The flags that they wave

In the name of us,

As they fill up the graves

The enemies are closer,

We vote them all in

To the end of our world,

The winners must win

©Mary Cecil