THE WRATH OF ROTTEN RATS

A burlesque staking out the bills,

Thrown money blood handed at mill.

Were you laughing about those half-bred?

Then, they hacked you off instead.

Claps! Throats riped into shallow holes as will.

Tricks or treats, they solemnly plead.

Bells ringing while the Capital’s ears bleed.

Now, the Jester shall run the reign!

Fostering it the qualms of far foreign

Whose poverty on legal rights they feed.

They named the new kingdom as well,

And so forth democracy’s stork act to fell.

The circus, though, has not paid the check

Another revolution we exude to after lack.

Ought we call ourselves land of prudently hell?

We’ve, finally, a king! And so long will be.

Even the starving faces we barely see.

So that, what ventures our lives could bring?

Bored, a new conspiracionist loudly sings:

Golpists! Against tirany only cowards flee!

Hernâni Arriscado - Wrath of Rotting Rats

24/04/16