Sunday, 28 November 2010

December Sings

Whistled tunes
Rebel songs
From the burnt out squatters war
Wishes discarded like confetti strewn
Upon the empty chapel floor
No gods no lords no masters
All hope we have is ours
No faith or trust in equity
Our kettled souls bearing scars
We marched upon their bastions
The heart of all they own
Taking back the city streets
To rebuild our cardboard homes
We never asked for wealth nor prize
All we want is to be freed
Disestablishing monoliths
That this corrosive system needs
We do not want the hand that feeds
We could do that for ourselves
We do not want your governance
To be slaves of someone else
We want to build a better world
Without hierarchy and fear
We want to embrace our humanity
Unshackled from the austere
An end to war and the market’s greed
Exploitation and the slaughter
Community and mutual consent
Clear minds and drinking water
Whistled tunes
Tattered flags
As black as a banker’s heart
We will never claim to be truly free
Until Capitalism is torn apart

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