Silently puts refined execution hiding the truth inherit Mother Earth.
In suits and ties first fight with accounting numbers and then with arms, create skeleton children spankings of bare bottom, flew slavery.
Upon entering, the pointer up or down to reflect back from the platform of lies.
Taught professionals to become killers seem scientists from university books of political science.
Fearing the political leadership in dead parliaments reflected images, false pretense, babbling rhetoric.
The masses follow their own absurdity stirring of dissatisfied,
individualist, thinking they know it is wrong – accomplices to murder souls.
A child helpless bleeding on the floor of Wall Street.
Garbage of tired warriors lost hope gather courage, and accepted destiny.
At this point, a different political mummy shouted for the wind of change.
To make the masses felt by all those who felt the importance.
“Let us fight together for freedom and justice.”
Clamoring masses and feast, rich enthusiasm an illusion and the child was dragged away, and intubation,
when the helpless bleeding on the floor of Wall Street.
Damn universities. Damn education.
Damn their murderous scientists. Damn the little minds of the masses
A child, supposedly philanthropists, dead, bruised the child and the pointer goes naked in front of reality.
These masses ego fit skinned knees, lays helpless. Who will save them now?
Thieves official with naked women prostitutes around them and zingolo for females,
snort cocaine blowjob taking from the one and the other side for the pointer success,
millions earned, blood spilled. Serving champagne and caviar.
Hands made from corns poorly inside a home hope for the future in a hope that has died.
The child is forgotten and flooded into the blood. Born within broken dream of promised lands.
These lands were conquered by the few; the only food for you is dried soil.
The dusty streets were anonymous poor roam, under the rules of Wall Street.
Without good intentions, trained officers of a mafia state ready intervene to suppress
the reaction of the few that have no future. Smoke,
booms are everywhere and state terrorism fighting to save the index democratically.
The game is well thought out though hope never looking find around.
The myth of Pandora Box for the hope they told is a big mistake.
Nothing escaped, all closed in her Box.
Was this the beginning of the underground Party.
You’re the inferior and senior are few, for those working.
For the index of Wall Street. Did you leave some money for charity without blood?
Folks across the oceans were already springing up far ahead on their own, most brutal campaign.
Their Tyranny belongs to them. Rightly!
Fond masses to sleep on the pillow in blissful sleep.
Tyranny ran over them. The inequality course will never learn.
The new order was never completed, but now coming to an end.
They earn from your homes and say thank you. The indicators fell, steal your soul and say thank you again.
Bullets, tanks and bombs were around. Brought down the line, reduced to those of our United Nations to this day,
they refuse to recognize the slain of their own system masses.
The leaders steal, kill, bury and indicators of Wall Street up.
People forget that the soil was born and will return there.
They continue to clean with violence. A facade to conceal a time, moreover,
the brutal tyranny to which the greed of elites, control of dimmer switch.
The fire of war and oppression dulls in front of the organized crime of any organized state.
An infant born to an end neighborhood political hides rejoice in the birth of the new slave.
Thinking and perceived by most as racially motivated.
Hate everywhere and the beginnings of mankind stay too far behind.
A gambling soul when profits are not satisfactorily schedules a bankruptcy.
So… Designed by all in glamorous offices of parliaments and Wall Street quench their thirst with the blood of old and dead workers on their machines.
…A mother knows best.
However, there are still few who erect barricades,
set fire to fight the smoke refuse to puff them their blood, politician’s vampires of rotten state.
Faint light shining far ahead, in a tunnel of hell, brought up to land.
Fixed the world order under repression agreement.
Do our closed eyes deceive our cries?
No! You will never walk into a clean air!
Breathing deeply now and everyone can hear the war cry, no longer moaning softly. As in any past and any future, there is always a war that regulates indicators of Wall Street.
The capitalist dream, soul’s exploitation. Money, power, women, men, drugs. More is never enough. It builds momentum as brothers and sisters dying and bleeding. There is no water of thirsty souls of the dead. They will not go yet passageways of destruction pass by. The index remains high. Still holding company with paper cuts, deep in the hands, which are printed and prepared, such as papers slave, kept by the elite bankers. Bankers another dirty alliance in the dead’s service organized state.
Where is our true Mother?
Kneeling in the shadow of a nonexistent father.
The land remained of profits allocation, creating a volcano that blow up,
tsunami tidal waves, with the bonus draws of world chaos,
billions of profits and new blood, rotting unburied bodies.
The pain, is the best winning trophy.
The next generations have no fear because they’re dead.
Do not ever change; continue to hold their arms Members of Parliaments who wants to bring you hope.
This is your truth, the biggest lie of your life.
Drawn in crossfire on the mark,
place the x in the next general who dares to fall into civil disobedience.
Enjoy the crumbs handing you what you deserve,
born of slaves in a society of Wall Street, parliaments, bankers,
all that lay the organized crime.
Stay idly at the empire of idiots dominating you.
How dare you steal from, and pollute the minds of your children.
How dare to sleep all day and all night as natural born dead.
How dare to all of us that we’re different.
Meanwhile, back in the city, of organized state.
One man stayed in the road, a romantic nature fighting alone.
In marked crazy, but was released tight that the tree of life,
which sprang up around this elbow abrasion and diversion.
Wall Street talk in the corner,
uploaded indicators with soil green than red blood to match the lengths to which end will surely bring one to it.
Green for prosperity, red for all to see that with this part.
A crazy man in the middle of the road instead shouts against the status quo.
The end to this, I wish in peace, a chance to unlock Pandoras Box,
to make only love and not war, generation taking a bow,
to bury the golden boys, secretaries,
bankers and senators and show them our life of freedom,
and earth as one of people’s land.
© 2016 Emmanuel G. Mavros