Game of the gods
Game of the gods 7.16.19 11:19PM R. H. Garbo Resting on their laurels, sitting on the clouds in the face of the sky Roaring like a thunder, preparing for a lightning to strike at once Making their people feel uncomfortable, frighten to fry A game of the gods, the rich ones, powerful with dreadful glance. Their people are like slaves in the land of dumb and dull They built empire from the serf's sweat, blood and tears nipped from fight A whip for every vassal's cry, A bullet for every rebel's skull Toasting a glass of wine for every conquest, laughing in sheer delight. The modern day slaves waging war inside the sweatshop, With a crisp white shirt, silk ties, leather shoes stepping on their wits to lick their master's ass For a small monetary emolument serves as bribe and trap, Oh good Lord, the just One, how long this painful truth would end and last?