The Call To Justice

The Call To Justice When the days turn sourer And the month turns dark With the years flinging to return no more Only the lonely already will thrive. When the hopes of the Negros grow faint Buried in the bellies of men in high positions Who sit only for their own interests With the future of the weak vanquishing into endless strife Caused by the city’s loafers who do nothing but enjoy. When the homeless graduates turn murderers And jobless men are marked languid Yet only the men in high positions progenies relish Then let those who have never been wronged laugh. Let those whose eyes long for just days stand! Let the men, women and children of our nations Be awaken from their breathless sleep So all looters in high positions will flee From the wrathful wrist of Anas’ restless tiger eyes.