A Call To Inertia  

 

There are times even a hot shower
Cannot wash off all the slime
Or remove the heinous stench
Left by humanity's putrid bile
I try to scrub, but as hard as I try
I can't remove the collective guilt
Of the inhumanity doled out daily

Instead of trying to solve the problems
That all could be solved by the stroke of a pen
The elites use their pens to count their own wealth
Whilst in Africa alone, one child dies every minute
The money they spend on their caviar starter
Could save five children and feed them for a year
The money they spend on their super yachts
Could save a small African nation and all its children

The money they spend, waste and store is a crime
They are all culpable of deliberate  infanticide
They are all culpable of deliberate  genocide
They wallow in their holocaust , though terrible it was
But to them brown people just don't count as usual
We all are culpable too by our wishing and inertia

Putting money in an envelope just doesn't cut it
Sponsoring a child though noble, is not enough
The charities  are stretched to the absolute limit
And yet the innocent are still dying in increasing numbers
It is time for mankind to stand up and say no more
Time to get our heads out of out asses and shout
In a very clear voice "Not In My Name!"

All this but I still don't get the smell of revolution
But it's revolution that is what's necessary
The time to eat the rich is well overdue
Everyone should eat cake, everyone!
Even the elites that I speak of here
But they get the same size piece
As a Somalian five year old child

No solution without redistribution
We are all the same race regardless of pigment
It's time to rise up! Who's with me?
I lead the charge showing my war face
I turn to see my revolutionary comrades
And see that as usual I am all alone

People playing with their gadgets
Attached to their mobile phone
People watching soap operas and game shows
People on their play stations or watching porno
The world is not going to hell - the world is hell
And we are all little Neros on the fiddle
A plague on all our houses