Poetic-Verses
'' In Ourselves We've Got To Believe ''
Don't be fooled,
By the price of oil,
It's not facing capitulation,
The prices are ruled,
Not by those who toil,
It's purely by manipulation.
The capitalist few,
Make a choice,
To play with the worlds affairs,
Then on cue,
They then rejoice,
As for us they say, who cares.
Diamonds or gold,
Anything goes,
The prices they then dictate,
It leaves us cold,
Their money flows,
These bastards are filled with hate.
Making us cower,
That's their aim,
Over us they want total control,
Holding the power,
That's their game,
If they could they'd steal your soul.
Who are THEY?
I hear you ask,
They call themselves the elite,
You they'll betray,
From under their mask,
Then expect us to bow at their feet.
All you buy,
They set the price,
Their egos are what they must feed,
The cost to die,
Just another vice,
Their lives are controlled by greed.
Does money disappear?
No it's frittered away,
Their aim is to line their pockets,
To riches they steer,
As they take their pay,
Then the price of everything rockets.
This tiny group,
Are no better than us,
Yet we allow them to make us grieve,
To Hell they'll stoop,
If we don't make a fuss,
' In Ourselves We've Got To Believe '
By the price of oil,
It's not facing capitulation,
The prices are ruled,
Not by those who toil,
It's purely by manipulation.
The capitalist few,
Make a choice,
To play with the worlds affairs,
Then on cue,
They then rejoice,
As for us they say, who cares.
Diamonds or gold,
Anything goes,
The prices they then dictate,
It leaves us cold,
Their money flows,
These bastards are filled with hate.
Making us cower,
That's their aim,
Over us they want total control,
Holding the power,
That's their game,
If they could they'd steal your soul.
Who are THEY?
I hear you ask,
They call themselves the elite,
You they'll betray,
From under their mask,
Then expect us to bow at their feet.
All you buy,
They set the price,
Their egos are what they must feed,
The cost to die,
Just another vice,
Their lives are controlled by greed.
Does money disappear?
No it's frittered away,
Their aim is to line their pockets,
To riches they steer,
As they take their pay,
Then the price of everything rockets.
This tiny group,
Are no better than us,
Yet we allow them to make us grieve,
To Hell they'll stoop,
If we don't make a fuss,
' In Ourselves We've Got To Believe '
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`` In Ourselves We`ve Got To Believe ``
`` In Ourselves We`ve Got To Believe ``
