Political Pigs that s r a Disease

p e d

Out in the barn,

Capitalism forces itself

Into the wet folds of society and

Gives us

Nothing but disease,

While the pigs sit inside the

Inn and drink their

Wine while

Throwing the beggers

Grade-A slop

To satisfy the cries, their needs;

It doesn't.

We need something more,

Perhaps blood,

To satisfy our thirst now,

We must help ourselves

To the delicasy inside,

For the pigs

Surely will sooner run us through

With their many manly tusks,

Than share their wealth

With those close to them.

Only spreading more

Hatred, sorrow,


And disease;

Only to have more people

Cry out and be in need.