Love of swimming in Tears
Judging, dividing, judging, they love money like sheep love grass.
Just give it up, dividing hypocrites, you’ll cry but never fight for it.
The grass they’re eating soaked, in the governments lying, sticky piss.
Eat up everyone, the picture will soon alter, I guess you won’t like it.
Love Corbyn, love Boris, what’s the fucking difference, still paying taxes.
Overtime, overworked, retirement, osteoporosis, sorry you can’t get that medication.
Until Bojo’s best mate sorts the prices, so you get them privately.
Bulk buying with money probably saved from Epstein services end.
The youths no longer listening, like yellow vests, extinction rebellion.
Getting somewhere, making the difference, oppressed, now nowhere.
It was for the many unhappy, willing to play along, changing with the seasons.
Now don’t worry too much, about the youth not behaving, Boris will send them away.
Peppered by small arms, artillery to blow them away. Or mentally scarred for the same.
It’s ok dividers, they’ll just carry on, listening to the media and spinning what’s on,
They invest in wars, they have a plan, instill their goals and not your own!
Unconsciously, vindictively, passing the message, of corruption through the years.
It’s the Muslims’, ‘it’s the immigrants’, ‘it’s the Chavs’, ‘it’s the Tories’, the game belongs to them.
Don’t privatise the NHS, slowly were doing it. Once the butt of the rifle, now the advertisement.
Don’t privatise the Post office or the railway… My honourable friend, its already done.
Bah bah humans, have you any soul? No sir no sir, you’ve taken it all!
You’ve tagged me, shaved me, rattled me with meds.
In my pen next to another, bleating, I don’t agree!
That cunt and his dog, in that farmhouse, I only wish to be, beyond the bounds of that fence.
This is dedicated to the real warriors, Wim Hoff, Russel Brand, Graham Hancock and Master Li,
No fear of being bumped off, trying to help the people off their pillow.
Names will be forgotten, unless they do the same as JFK,
Message so big, they feared, then used his story to create the subliminal vortex.
On this level, the last man who, stood up to them, was Mr Luther King.
Assassination, for promoting, be free, be free, be free!
By Ellis Robinson
Work of Unchained Wisdom ©