Thespians and thieves
Dressed in pitch black robes
Hiding egos beneath their sleeves
Drunk in their own monologues.
With nations for puppets
They pull invisible strings
Behind bloodstained carpets
Of dead bodies and dreams.
Playing god at their podium
Waging wars and pointing fingers
For the proper decorum
They conspire to pull the trigger.
A buffoonery of reporters
Fiddle the media screens
A game of smokes and mirrors
To stage the perfect scene.
They dance with politics
While half the world burns
Amused in the devil's antics
While war-torn cities mourn.
A soiree will soon follow
At the pounding of the gavel
The jury will watch the gallow
While they sip oil from the barrells.