Has the Blood On Your Hands Dried?
poem/song about the corrupt elite

It's very easy to not care,
When you were raised on silver spoons.
Shrouded in designer brands,
As soon as you were out the womb.
/
Senator got his wife a new diamond necklace,
That'll distract the cameras from the fresh bruises.
He bought a new wardrobe for his little princess,
That'll make up for the sick shit he does in the darkness.
/
How many zeroes on your check
Will make you give up your dignity?
How many dollars in the bank
Will change up your loyalty?
How much bread and circuses
Will you be attending?
Has the blood on your hands dried,
Or it is still dripping?
/
It's very easy to not care,
When it's not happening to you.
The rich and famous flaunt their wealth
And would probably pull your noose.
/
The President has dementia and his wife fucking hates him,
Nobody can aim worth a shit in this kingdom.
I never thought I'd be rooting for an aneursym.
He doesn't need a ballroom, he needs a throat incision.
/
How many zeroes on your check
Will make you give up your dignity?
How many dollars in the bank
Will change up your loyalty?
How much bread and circuses
Will you be attending?
Has the blood on your hands dried,
Or it is still dripping?
/
You can't support an industry,
That funds this fucking oligarchy.
All your jewels and diamond crowns,
Are poisoned by elitist greed.
Fascists are kept in power,
By the luxuries you think you need.
There's always money to be made
When they can make people bleed.
/
How many zeroes on your check
Will make you give up your dignity?
How many dollars in the bank
Will change up your loyalty?
How much bread and circuses
Will you be attending?
Has the blood on your hands dried,
Or it is still dripping?
About the Creator
CT Idlehouse
I write stories and articles. Sometimes they're good.
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