From 2016. Always relevant.
The Foot Soldiers of Political Change
Change is in the Wind, like a stale fart
They took something bad
And made it right
And then repeated the same mistake
Never knowing when to stop
Without observing the flapping faux pas
On their nose
Like a discarded embryo sac
Made buoyant by the hot winds
Once again solidifying
The corpses of errors
Piled endlessly throughout history
Reborn and Redressed
For the new school of thought.
There’s nothing like running that injustice
Into the putrid layers
Tomorrow’s fossil fuel
Yet, if you put your lips to the populous Holy Wall
The stench is obvious
As the silver lining sphincters
From whence superiority flows.
More in the series on the Eighth Wonder of the World