As government begins to auction
We sell our soul for a third of it’s true value.
The 28 billion will only half cover the debts
We have incurred over years of human existence.
To own treasuries makes no sense
When the most precious asset we have is our belief
In the self
In the Universe
In the balance of the two.
Earnings that continue to feed the mouths
Will only draw us closer to the worst poverty of all.
The poverty of thought
The poverty of opportunity
The poverty of creation.
The population of underdeveloped man
Has no relation to the place of settlement,
But all to do with the state of maturity
In this time of instability
Let us not feed on stocks and shares
Let us not feed on dollars and dow
Let us not feed on the decline of trade,
From the dept we owe
And his court
And her chambers,
This volatile land
Laced in oil
We call his soul.