It is now
Suicidal
The truth to
tell
The creed to
sing
Among
applauded liars.
Those with the
bell
The cat’s neck
to bell
Are themselves
favoured rats,
An allied
force with the fat cats.
Before the
door, they knock,
Behind the
door, they respond
With an
ear-blocking voice,
Who is there?
Who rescues
the truth?
From the
blood-thirsty talons?
No doubt the
fingers that bears the talons,
The jailers of
truth.
Oh truth, have
you life in you still?
Your flesh so
mangled and pierced,
Your blood
guzzled to dryness
By joyless,
unbridled bees.
But another
truth is true, oh truth,
And this I
know;
When the
talons grow old,
When feeble
they become,
Your freedom
shall be
And your nature stark naked emerge.
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