House of Cards
By Rik (DevilMachine)
Revision #1
As small as the man is,
Minds become smaller as
filthy hands hold him up
in the highest regard
in a house of cards
that’s now falling.
Give me tragedy!
Give me death!
Speaking pure lies
with every stinking breath!
You cover up the rot with
a sly knowing smile and
the sweet scent of defeat.
When did you decide
that we were so cheap,
(sheep)
to be sold and slaughtered
out on the street?
The illusion of freedom
exists in the mind
We shall remain in chains
Til the end of our time.