Blood on the Head

No need naming names
They know
Those who played games
With the future
Of these hungry little ones.
These big bellied children
With fat heads and flat bottoms
That have never known nutrition
Someone traded their destiny
And their blood is on his head.
 
You who gambled away
Their soul at the foreign casino
And spilt their blood
On the altar of embezzlement
Their blood is on your head.
 
There lies the future of our children
Stashed far away in foreign accounts
To freeze. Never to be seen again
Soon many more big-bellied boys and girls
Will come
And they will need
A well dressed table
To eat green earth
Not wind and fire.