Somewhere in the government
There's a fella sitting in a dark cubical
And printing bills in our currency
Before he stacks them right beside him
And goes all out to ask them from the peasants in taxes.
In this guy, the world believes
And they‘d go to any measure paying him.
I am the answer to a corrupted nation
And working overtime to cleanse your thinking,
But you do your best to not listen.
I will not be delighted if my word is not upheld.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem