How far will you run, my countrymen?
From one twist to another, from falsehoods to its very mire.
Stumbling, tottering, living in fear.
Today, tomorrow, probably the next,
Under the garb of the mercurial mob,
Propped up, like the wooden scarecrow,
Today to uphold, tomorrow to burn.
Truth is a funny animal, it shows not in total to all.
Today you might profit, tomorrow to bemoan,
the fastidious truth can easily slip, and your beds can turn to thorn.
For years and years, your can silence the truth,
hedge it, mask it and subvert it too,
but the day it appears, naked it will unmask the injustice within.
How far will you run, my countrymen?
No comments:
Post a Comment