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Who will watch the Watchmen? |
Power A question made of power, an answer drawn from lies; to eighty seats, the victor, logistics, sense defies Numbers that don't factor, with the hands that were on show; proportions lost in rapture, representatives live low whilst dwelling in high places, low men...women, reap seeds sewn; a harvest shared at tables high, no blood left in this stone Nothing left to trickle down, but triptyched, hollow words; a snake afraid of cobras, crowds, a cryptic nest, absurd Absurd in it's transparency, lies endless, coiled round; rattled by the sins we see, in plain sight, where they're found Found in fridges, hiding out, avoiding questionnaires; how can you be found in doubt, when answers just aren't there? 'midst pieces taken off the board, prorogued to make a path; found guilty in a twisted joke, just played along for laughs with punchlines absent, lost in noise, white static from the screens; black ink set, white paper poised, with print to set the scene A scene where all the white hats win, 'midst Churchill spirit high; drowning in a pit of sin, a venom pool of lies Where friends and family win the day, despite no skills on show; contracts granted, morals stray, where it ends, who knows? with ten years of austerity, in mirrors, rear view; erased for their posterity removed to aid the few as vital gears take their turns, one percent at a time; 'gainst higher rates, unrightly earnt ... no reason in that rhyme No rythym to the lines we're sold, division's where it's set; when viral thoughts embraced, take hold, with unions not met Coalitions, poorly formed, to hold a ship afloat; mercenaries paid and bought, with chaos, all she wrote Reports made independently, discarded with the rest; investigations put on hold, with truths lost in such jest Behind such smiles painted through, like slogans on a bus; "We're all in this together"... true, "You're just not one of us" For now you're locked down in your pens, with road maps loose, in sight; "We've come so far, we don't intend, to be voted out tonight" So just look at our best bits now, posh passports, coloured blue; forget they're made in Poland, let the sovereignty ensue Let fish rot in the harbour, let the paperwork acrue; as rich donors, get their karma, thirty silver pieces due 'midst muted voices, saying soothes, a singing swansong, scries; economic with their truths, deceitful in their lies Complicit in the swing they hold, transparent as they are; when power twists, corrupts and folds, to origami bars Bills designed to hold, contain, notes printed to control; minted coins to shroud such eyes, when spun and run in polls Power as a question made, as answers shift and list; when you cut out people's tongues ... you leave them with their fists |