Revolution Day.
Not my King, not my ruler, to you I have no worth.
An inhabitant of time I am, a citizen of earth.
I’m one of many people, who have come to understand,
you are not divinity, to me you’re just a man.
Your ancestors have pillaged and sent our sons to die..
In slavery and war, while the poor boy’s mother’s cry.
You’re just an old world order that will soon be replaced.
No longer will your lies keep our people in their place.
Those sycophants that serve you, one day will betray.
When those who live in poverty will see through this display.
Of subterfuge and violence or threat disguised as law.
Of young men killed in battle to quell your feudal war.
Of child abusers walking free because they paid the bribe.
Your sins don’t go unnoticed, nor will be set aside.
You represent our people as a conduit to salvation.
Has your God forgiven you for crimes against our nation?
And what about your mistress queen, how did the world ignore.
Your unashamed adultery, your wife betrayed once more.
Protecting those within your pride, your future is in doubt.
When people come to understand just what you are about.
You view the world through fuschia haze, peruse us down your nose.
Poverty, the nursery where revolution grows.
Unaware that in our streets the embers of a blast.
You’re not my ruler, not my King banished to the past.
Your version of our history puts you at the core.
Of leading men to victory within your feudal war.
Re lived and celebrated accompanied by a band,
No mention of the plundering of other nation’s land.
One day our revolution will bring your playhouse down.
Your palaces will tumble, we’ll raise them to the ground.
For all the years of poverty you saw but turned away.
The land will be returned to us on revolution day.