poems that don't seem fit for Facebook
One million barrels of oil will buy our sons' and daughters' toil
in foreign lands where natives stand
One man's head cannot bring the unjustly dead
in foreign fields where natives yield
One more year will bring the reckoning I fear
when old greed snaps the whip it cracks
to bring about the new collapse
in foreign lands where natives stand
One man's head cannot bring the unjustly dead
in foreign fields where natives yield
One more year will bring the reckoning I fear
when old greed snaps the whip it cracks
to bring about the new collapse