Disheveled and all in upheaval,
Amongst a slop nobody mops...
But,
A doing of it no one stops.
Since,
A pointing of fingers is done a lot.
Knee deep in polluted crude.
And the people wont admit,
They've suffered enough.
But,
A doing of it no one stops.
Since,
A pointing of fingers is done a lot.
With woes are the holy rollers.
And from the pulpits the sermons are preached.
Nobody in the pews are listening,
To the lessons that are in their reach.
But,
A doing of it no one stops.
Since,
A pointing of fingers is done a lot.
And...
Nobody in the pews are listening,
To the lessons that are in their reach.
Knee deep in polluted crude.
And the people wont admit,
They've suffered enough.
Knee deep in polluted crude.
But the people,
Continue to weep.
Knee deep in polluted crude.
Knee deep in polluted crude.
Disheveled and all in upheaval,
Amongst a slop nobody mops...
But,
A doing of it no one stops.
Since,
A pointing of fingers is done a lot.
To leave people in polluted crude.
Knee deep in polluted crude.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem