Theres graffiti
Of an unknown poet
Hastily scratched
Upon the wall
The young voices
Raised in anger
Demanding
The system fall.
In a world run
By rich and old men
The dynasties
Still alive today
The youth are not
Your profit makers
Nor your slaves
Theyve turned away.
Now as benefits
To be cut
To stop wages
Having to rise
Families struggle
To feed their kids
While society
It declines.