You sat
\non your arses
\nyou sat on your hands
\nnobody there
\nreally understands
\nthe pain and the woeful behaviour
\nthat we
\nknow what goes on
\nin the vast factory<\/p>\n
once there were farms
\ngreat green swords of grass
\nnatural and fresh
\nnothing could pass
\ncows, sheep and horses
\nwho played naturally
\nwith the sun on their backs
\nand a warm tapestry<\/p>\n
then came the banketer’s
\nthe corporate goons
\nwho balanced the sheets
\nand burst our balloons
\nthey cut us to size
\nwe became lesser souls
\nthings, just commodities
\nparadigms, goals
\nbudgets and boundaries
\nthat’s when it changed
\nthen the people around us
\njust seemed deranged<\/p>\n
lets cut to the quick
\nto the chase
\nto the core
\nthey sat on their arses
\nexpecting much more
\ncutting the costs
\ntorturing souls
\ndropping the standards
\nscoring some goals<\/p>\n
making more money
\nfor shareholders, who
\ncare nothing for us
\njust how much they can screw
\nout of, all and sundry
\nwe commodities
\nlost in your darkness
\nalone if you please<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Farms not anymore so many are torture chambers Continue reading