own too much land
build the house on sand
damn your rightous hand
victims of your fame
not treated the same
selective judgement in shame
have your day
have your day
mine is on the way
but when one mind ends
something else begins
but without a scream
nothing short of a whisper
hands of many
minds of few
feul the masses
feul the masses
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem