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The State-Lottery




Does it seem strange to you?

The confetti, the balloons, the mile-wide grins?

The victory dance to welcome in the heir

To a state of disrepair?

Cause it sure seems strange to me

They’re acting like they won the lottery

But shouldn’t they feel terror at the task that lies ahead?

Of feeding, housing people the system’s left for dead?

Could I have hit the nail much harder on the head?

It’s profits before lives; they are motivated by greed:

First they taught us to depend

On their nation-states to mend

Our tired minds, our broken bones, our failing limbs,

And now they’ve sold off all the splints and contracted out

the tourniquets

And if we jump through hoops, then we might just survive.

Is this what we deserve?

To scrub the palace floors?

To fight amongst ourselves?

As we scramble for the crumbs they spit out

Frothing at the mouth about the

Scapegoats that they’ve chosen for us

With every racist pointing finger

I hear the goose-steps getting closer

They no longer represent us.

Is it not our obligation to confront this tyranny?


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