The Complaint
Spirit of the wise
I have come to offer wine
Not from a sacred heart
But from the voice of a troubled soul.
Spirit of the wise
I come with my gift
Not to be given
But to be consolidated
I come with the plight of my friends
Whom were earlier yesterday
To have taken the oath of the pen
But are late already without the promise
And pride of their achievements
I come with grimace of my youths
Who are dying in ecological poverty
And economic misery
The heart is penciled with the flames of death
The very death caused by our politicians
Who through many promises have created
The world that must not exist
I come with the pains of my inability
To tell our big friends that they are political liars
I come to take a gong
To gather them
That the restless spirit may find rest.
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