The Great
In a blaze of gold light
white horse and all that shit
the state of a nation was injured
took another hit
to the abdomen, a bullet to the heart
for the people by the people
1% tore it apart
the charming ones, grey hair and wrinkles
wrinkled hundreds the aged hands
capitol hill changes hands
Hands stuff their pockets, speak words in circles
news networks feeding stories through the mill
what meal have we
buried under the Armani suits and Italian loafers
what choice have we
for the people like them
by the people like them
while the people like us
look up, crushed beneath the hooves
of their white horse