4.02.2013

The Crowd and The Tyrants

it is addressed thusly:
A song.
it reads:
Even in days of ease I cannot escape it
This strange disease, a matter of thought
Or of conspiracies; for what is the system
But humanity's collusion against itself?

We cannot choose all, or else gods we'd be
There is at least one wall to block our choosing
We must recall what good we've given
Back to all who also gave the good.

We feel strangled perhaps by our narrow path
We fear its collapse, or that it is not narrow
Enough, and in some lapse we scramble
To perhaps make the days less evil.

The system does exist, it is objective
As men and power persist, it then must follow
As each item on a list that the politic
Employs the fist for expedience.

A tyrant is this man who is a foreign power
Though against him stand all law and truth
And who then can resist him in his time
In his hour lay hand upon his youth?

A conspiracy true must remain thus hidden
As such men knew, but had they guessed?
That in lieu of better explanation
It was what grew, hid in plain sight

So thus we name it with no small jest
For who to blame, if tyrant's true?
Be slain the same, he may as else
But return again, he surely will.

When a man must give to help another
Who then does live to make him pay
This man will strive, but strive in vain
This man will drive the man away.

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