In Washington friendship follows the wind
Its course steady as an earthquake
One fault line exposes all the sticks
Shuffling new backroom handshakes
Integrity blows like gale in the east
Succumbing to its own decay
Revealing the only constants deceit
A Machiavellian parade
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
all those backrooms will have many back doors..for the deals.. you've spotted them too..lol.