We Don’t Trust Them

By Chris Bunton

We don’t trust them.
Those giants who rule the Earth;
those fallen ones who stole our dominion.

We don’t trust them.
Those royal descendants of “gods”;
those of the divine blood line.

Why should we trust them?
They live in castles even today,
while we still cower in caves.

Why should we trust them?
From days of old,
we die in their wars,
we beg to consume what they own.

Why should we trust them?
For just a Dollar more,
we slave away in debt,
just to pay another hidden fee.

We can never trust them.
When all the rebels for freedom die;
while the masters control our mind.

If we surrender we lose.
If we fight we lose.
So, disobey till we die.

Why can’t we just be left alone?
To be free? To be happy? To escape?

More laws, more rules, more lies;
another thing, for the little spies to tell on.
Rebels are always betrayed.

The Declarations, and Constitutions,
and Magna Cartas, become so much paper,
under the debt of life and death and lies to survive.

Those pretty words mean nothing
in the hands of traitors eating
cake, while others beg for bread.

The Guillotine chop chop chop,
not long enough and even its
sharp blade became dull under
the betrayers tongue.

The mobs in the streets and union
halls, fall prey to corruption
and rotting souls for wealth,
again and again.

When will it end?
will we always gain the wind?
Will hope always be loss?

These last days,
in a world ruled by them.
That Ragnorak, that Armageddon
can’t come fast enough, to set us free.

Free to sleep in?
Free to never get fat?
Free to be whoever we want?
Free to be with whoever we want?
Free to say no, when we want?
Free to grow without pain.

In a place we all call home.

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