Nature Nurtures
The slaughterers and the butchered
Where the saved and the damned are supply and demand
Beneath this abattoir of democracy
Its Viscera accountancy
But
Poverty is free
If Injustice is now our creed
Its our inheritance that's reaped
And every fiber of our being
Is as Empty as vending machine
With no soul or orange Soda
Id trade my blood for carbon soma
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem