It was a hot, soggy and sad day.
The light got annexed,
the hapless could not make out
the conqueror's face,
not for the pitch dark
or blinding nuclear arrogance.
The pillage was muffled
with scary inflation,
misplaced gross domestic product,
massive borrowing of pain,
drying out of crops and
industry manufacturing lies by special provision of
depleted resources of natural gas.
They pay their counter well
and call him an independent statistician.
A master of lies from yore.
They thrive on circular debt and stack
plunder on affluence.
Blocking all pathways to happiness.
Welfare in the clutches of a family accountant,
who calculates profit and dishes out misery
to the hungry and impoverished.
In tight embrace with last dacoits,
the cover-up has a lot to do with work of art.
They come out cool, dry and happy
we end up licking the wounds of last election
in this heat and humidity from hell.
You know our last hope got taken in the massive pillage.
