They raise their glasses and smile ear to ear,
They raise their glasses filled with blood in shameful celebration...
Spill of blood means not to them, life of a buccaneer...
Oh! such festival of blood! what abomination.
Voting turned to noting, and corpses are seen bloating...
Gunshots rent the air, the music accompanying our voting...
We run helter skelter, all in search of shelter,
From thence we behold in awe, as our poll they scatter.
Do they really need our votes? I doubt that's the case...
I thought they said our votes will count? please tell me something else...
All they really wanted is to have in their hands the mace...
That's all that matters to them even though we all demise.
And now they celebrate ballots tainted with blood...
And yet I hear them shout and say; "the people voted us!"
Oh please throw them away for all of them are crud...
Oh holy moly who has done this to us?
©darlington
D