electoral college is our saving grace
it ensures that the poor can never get a stronghold
or even a toe-hold in the political machine
I stared at the creepy senator, wondering if he had any idea
what it was like to be poor, homeless, suffering, alone or desperate
He had a smug look on his face,
his braggadocio ways turned me away
I began thinking about all the unfairness in the world
between the rich and the poor
a man convicted of 34 counts of felony
allowed to run for President?
Trailer trash stealing a loaf of bread and meat to feed children
is living in a stark six by eight cell, awaiting a speedy trial
the laws are made by the congressmen and senators here.
Are they not rich?
And who do they benefit?
How do they stay rich?
America, the Land of the Poor.
Many things in life I cannot follow.
Much like a pill that is hard to swallow.
I wander how people can be such sheep?
It seems like the world has fallen asleep.
I can’t do something I cannot believe.
It’s no magic no tricks up my sleeve.
People tell me to try and understand.
I’m not certain if I know that I can.
I watch as the political machine rolls on.
They assure me this won’t be for too long.
All we once had seems all but gone.
Sounds like notes to that same old song.
They say they know but spend a day in my shoes.
When there’s nothing to gain there’s not much to lose.
They say we need change and that much is true.
It seems like a promise that they never will do.
They say vote for me I have your interests at hand.
But in their Ivory towers how can they understand?
They spend millions to secure a place in the race.
The favors they all owe seem like a disgrace.
I think perhaps we should demand better.
The rain still falls down as we get wetter.
It would be nice if they would do as they say.
I cannot follow when it has all gone astray.