My Voice In Silence

There will be no recognition, no epiphanies No intellectual solidarity, no saving grace So without further adieu, let us speak free, A clarion call to smash this ludicrous machine that churns out poverty and wipes away our identities The apparatus of violent repression. The rich partake in the reckless and unrestrained celebration of the exploitation of the less fortunate. A carrot is dangled and the people are ready to be thrown in this machine. It makes the rich wealthy and the toiling men into fuel. More men are made and more fuel is burnt but not all are burnt, some die as they are discarded For they don't burn as hot and the machine is renowned for its brilliant plumes of smoke as only those who light up the best, are picked So we must burn those men that rule us instead, for we have been told they are the best. Yet another bothersome group we must denounce - the tide of grey faceless men "In these times those happy and carefree, I find are mere liars Or They have gone senile, brainwashed, to be served to the ruling thugs Like mutton, or poultry. The people are faceless, Limping through the cold, the fascists parade them naked The ones left with faces are made to erase them As hope departs, i cease to care as i make a run but the senile mass grab me At the cusp of possible escape At end of the tunnel Im dragged back to be eaten alive. The people have succumbed to the commands of their parasitic masters. these masters will go to work on them Putting a smile on the faceless masses The Grey lumps of flesh will now remain complicit to the ceaseless evil that occurs in plain sight."