Poetic-Verses
'' It's The Rich Who Will Kick Up A Fuss ''
To royalty show loyalty,
That god you must laud,
Don't dare ever stop and ask why,
You'll find the truth is so uncouth,
From then on you'll refuse to comply.
Statisticians and politicians,
The Lords with their swords,
Truth is they're all one and the same,
None of them mind that they rob us blind,
To them it's all but a game.
Starving or carving,
A voice with no choice,
Ask yourself which one are you,
The millionaire without a care,
Or the one they claim is not true.
No house with a mouse,
That scent in your tent,
How you'd love to have your own home,
Governments have vowed you're not allowed,
Somewhere for your toothbrush and comb.
Foodbanks or tanks,
Pride or hide,
We all have to make that decision,
For some life's so hard it leaves them scarred,
They are treated with contempt and derision.
Paying tax they are lax,
Why they fiddle's a riddle,
They have more than the rest of us combined,
Being rotten to the core is why they need more,
Thieving scum should be how they're defined.
Caring and sharing,
For killing we're willing,
The rich we must always appease,
We know it's not right that they never fight,
That's why they just do what they please.
Life or strife,
Take a dive or survive,
The answer lies entirely with us,
Until we learn 'OUR RESPECT ' they must earn,
' It's The Rich Who'll Kick Up A Fuss '
That god you must laud,
Don't dare ever stop and ask why,
You'll find the truth is so uncouth,
From then on you'll refuse to comply.
Statisticians and politicians,
The Lords with their swords,
Truth is they're all one and the same,
None of them mind that they rob us blind,
To them it's all but a game.
Starving or carving,
A voice with no choice,
Ask yourself which one are you,
The millionaire without a care,
Or the one they claim is not true.
No house with a mouse,
That scent in your tent,
How you'd love to have your own home,
Governments have vowed you're not allowed,
Somewhere for your toothbrush and comb.
Foodbanks or tanks,
Pride or hide,
We all have to make that decision,
For some life's so hard it leaves them scarred,
They are treated with contempt and derision.
Paying tax they are lax,
Why they fiddle's a riddle,
They have more than the rest of us combined,
Being rotten to the core is why they need more,
Thieving scum should be how they're defined.
Caring and sharing,
For killing we're willing,
The rich we must always appease,
We know it's not right that they never fight,
That's why they just do what they please.
Life or strife,
Take a dive or survive,
The answer lies entirely with us,
Until we learn 'OUR RESPECT ' they must earn,
' It's The Rich Who'll Kick Up A Fuss '
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
`` It`s The Rich Who Will Kick Up A Fuss ``
`` It`s The Rich Who Will Kick Up A Fuss ``
