The People; The Sheep

A herd of sheep follow the leading men

Shepherds crooks grab them by their willingness

they are all but friends, Romans, countrymen

they will lend their ears blinded by finesse.

They will diminish any in their path

oh, this is the fickleness of the mass

They stomp and froth the mob is full of wrath

A burnt smell with the sound of broken glass.

Fickleness, why must you be persistent?

hear the silent screaming of the afraid

Some rise up to lead. Others stay distant

A clear side made, they are the bold and the brave.

Until like birds flying for the first time

they rise but barking dogs don’t bite