The Return of Our Masters

When the masters came breathing superiority We became curious servants They ruled us, they exploited us, they planted us We cried, we laughed They humiliated us, they enlightened us We moan, we learn And when they left because we clamoured We celebrated freedom Suddenly appear the masters again But from among us They redefine freedom in their context And we hate freedom They console us in harsher terms And we become inconsolable They exploit us until they extricate us We mourn, we endure They promise us the heavens, but in our dream We see it fulfil The dividends of our treasure they apportion to us And in our grave, we recieve them They offer us their acquired knowledge But we clamour for transparency They teach us the song of independence On our lips they turn dirge They speak the language of Democracy And we discern Oligarchy They teach us the principle of Federation But the totalitarian version If our former masters had not gone We might have been taught better We might have known better We might have fared better But with the return of our superfine masters We are less than servants