As we move further away,
From the year two thousand and eight.
As is the custom to celebrate it.
There will be more who will come,
To appreciate the year...
They were shakened awake.
Realizing they were not forced,
In satisfying a temporary greed,
Nibbled with a teasing eventually satiated.
Many caught up in the feeding of this feast...
Wished they had more patience and waited!
To examine the crooks who gleefully stuffed them...
With a wonderful presentation of deceit on their plates!
Would you pass me more lies, please!
What do you mean 'which ones'?
The best ones,
What do you mean...
You've 'run out' of 'those'?
They were delicious!
I demand an explanation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.