Our earth, smells of petroleum.
Our aquatic lives, all taken positions
In the aquatic mortuary.
Government give us our right
Of the bloods of our bleeding earth
Havoc of hearts
Politics of poverty
Dreams of despair
Dance of deceit
Arrows of agony
All, men of the match
Playing in the stadium of sorrow erected in our souls
Who could whistle the end of the match
When we can’t measure voices with the slave’s?
Eaten patients rose with sulphur
‘Die-for-right’ become our Hobson’s choice
And drums of stammering 9mm
Quake our hope of life
But death is no longer our nightmare
When our women can shoot down the stars
Suns of selection and not election sailed
Some heats of hope hovered
And drops of amnesty drunk our earth.
Surrender of ammunition dominated our thoughts
And fainted faces feel some strength
But this charity of Lucifer
Is it not a double-edged dagger
Against the anointed truth?