Their big grammar scatters my brain
Transparency, Fruitful democracy”
My poor head reels from grammar bombs,
but “Chop, I Chop,” I understand
so I cast my vote, my liberty.
Now they sing a different tune
stomachs full with wine and spoils
they’ve become Lords of the ring
“Chop, I Chop” was not to be,
now they chop, and chop alone
while I die, I die, I die alone.
Tomorrow still the circle starts
“Manifestos, Sweet potatoes
Propaganda, Vile Agendas”
I am the grass, they the elephants,
but I’ll cast my votes to who bids most
at least half bread… it betters none!