They Call It Fuel Scarcity

The nation in question is a world largest oil exporter It citizens is be deprived of what she has Involuntarily long queues from night In petrol stations till dawn outside the same stations Makes the danfo drivers angry and happy with price hike Who will be sorry for the stranded commuters Is it the profitless street sellers Or the red hotted conductors? You then see a divided country Each citizen angry with and harmless to the government Frustrated citizens walk miles to chase Molues No one cares for the other the aim is to get home Though some do, the poor ones. Who says it only touches the proletariat Even the rich are touchable You will see big fat men exercising in their cars Suffering from the traffic jam created at the stations. Who will condole with the cying lady That cannot manouvre due to her twisted hand And clucth ridden legs? A country were urchins Take to the streets as black marketers The hoarding stations having collaborated With them sell the gold four times its price All moneyed men will buy from the law breakers The owners says it is due to vandalism What a suitable lie For it is likely that the political skirmishes Has reined on the innocent citizens Even our eight year leader Will not address us on the issue Who says it this is not a dividend? I say it is.