With irony I look back on July the fourth,
Commemorating separation from the British Crown.
Decrying aristocrats and their gorging worth
And the treatment of their subjects trampling down.
Open your eyes and look at us now,
Governed and judged by aristocrats galore.
Expected to beg, grovel and bow
Just as we did to King George before.
Over two hundred years we’ve learned nothing it’s clear
As again we submit to the court and its king.
Giving away what we should have held dear
For the promise of a golden ring.
This golden ring offered in hopes to divide
The right from the left I am sure
Confusing the masses with promises to provide
Answers to our problems through their cure.
But the cure is poisoned by their quest for greater wealth,
On the backs of those who can least afford.
Tricking them to believe by their dishonest stealth,
That there’s nothing but truth in their word.
Illusion and trickery is the game of the day,
Substance something long ago past.
Diverting ones blame is the partisan way,
Spewing venom as long as it lasts.
If truth does not sell then they coat it in lies,
Said long enough they’re bound to believe.
People are gullible say their political spies,
They’ll swallow whatever we conceive.
Free press is now gone in lieu of partisan hacks,
Towing their hate-filled party lines.
Convincing the audience that they’re watching their backs,
While raking in millions all the time.
With sadness I watch our republic disappear
Under the weight of corruption and greed.
Leaving the powerless amongst us I fear
To scratch and claw for all that they need.
Convinced they’re a burden and a waste of our time
Pretending that they don’t exist.
From their pit of despair alone they’re left to climb,
Should they fail it’s unlikely they’ll be missed.
America has lost the humanity it once had,
Trading it for profit and conceit.
Where helping one another was more than a fad,
It was a facet of what made us complete.
Deception is all part of the elites master plan
Pitting each man against his brother.
Feeding the masses as much fear as they can,
Blaming the cause on another.
Unless we take a stand, the ninety-nine percent,
Against the one percent we’ve allowed to rule us.
Expect nothing more than this we consent,
But to allow the bourgeois to fool us.
This my dear friends is my greatest fret,
With each and every fourth of July.
That under their thumbs, ever more we do get,
Until America shrivels up and dies.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
