Sandpaper hands in the black,
steady and sure, no longer pure.
Stained with the blood,
of the forgotten ones,
stars can only watch from above.
Treading lightly on stained sand oceans,
there is no depth, only death.
Why would man ****,
when man has tongue?
Do not question Capitol Hill.
The Man says to do and so it is done,
but would the Man do it if he had the gun?
Charming in his ways and strong in his speech,
he walks all over you and me,
with his big government feet.
Don't let him push,
don't let him pull,
don't let him tug,
on the little ropes.
We aren't the puppets,
we're the puppeteers.
So let them know that,
and makes sure they hear.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
