Deep under the surface
Lies a strange calm at the terrace
Blood boil burn in those darkened furnace
Strange spirits strain strange shortage
Over the calm
Lies maximum disturbances on the palm
Who knows my qualms?
Who feels the spam
Who knows the scam?
Outward I boil and shine
The eagles gather in the shrine
While they ''pour'' sacred wine
'Our' foetuses starve while they dine
When I raised my voice in shame
Educated illiterates trade blame
'Our' heritage became lame
Barren poachers know the game
On the surface everything seems calm
On our sandals
Remains great scandals
Intellectual vandals
Makes even the learneth to ponder
On the surface strange works of wonders
Blinds even the canon fodders
While our country men bend to conquer
Many things fidget asunder
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