Who are you pointing at; with your twisted finger

and your meely mouth

And what gives you the right to rule our roost

When we are the youth of tomorrow and you the death of yesterday

Go with your hate and go with your crooked smile

For you  will walk the stone strewn miles

Whilst we will stagger but rise     -      eventually

 

Safe are stars; but we are here

And warriors are few; the warriors who knew

Are counting heads; weaving threads

And hoping for fortune; but growing hope

Was taken when the man was brought to this land of poison

The man who.s axe brought unholy shame

 

I sit with fear under a tree of tears

Of grotesque limbs

And dripping leaves 

While the perpetrator slowly grins

and the multitude walks by with no casting glance

shrugging shoulders

and thinks there is no chance

of redemption;    or change;     or hope;     or love

 

The puppets wave

So the man will dance

 

written for all dictators    who come and go