Depature of the Truth
Heralded by the sounds of guns
They came like an ill-wind
Sweeping towards our choices
we fled and upon return
Blood, blood every where was seen
The gun of thunder boomed
Onthe trunk of the toads
We were the toads
Whose choices sunk under-feet
our ballot boxes departed
With the servants of the masters
The lords of our time
Children sent by fathers to steal
We the the Nannies shall go mourning
For the truth has departed
Our choices have departed
The ballot boxes have gone
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