Our mystic engineer set the road, but the Messiah missed the call
And that took the toll, and still the claque cherished
and gained
The haughty bullies indoctrinate their cronies, to bite and soothe
And sing praises, oyee, Oyee!
We are free to eat! and still the claque cherished and gain
When ye mighty warriors fought to faint, and exalt a dummy
Then mutter with discontent, upon a dreary life that befell
Ye slowly frail, wither and die in solace
Still the claque cherished
The brisk clowns resort to sway, and take the road preferred for pay
Only to learn dismayed, that a nation once deeply asleep, has woken up to the cause
To seek the truth hidden for gains
Still the claque cherished
Thine fickle friend in town, Devious and oblivion with lust and extermination
Dragging a fuzzy authority upon the mass
And squabbling with nuns over pecuniary means
Only to corrupt our great plains
And cast upon it ruin
So we may rest with chains, and bear the pain for going to war
Still the claque cherished
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem