This Is His Message

I wish we could go to another time
Where men’s words hold water and come out true
For each word they speak, I would give a dime
It’s sad that you can only find a few.

So they mount podiums and whisper change
Gather the dregs, feed it to the masses
People troop in lines, no one finds that strange
Minds are chained and their willfulness passes

Their lives cannot even inspire dust
With preaching that have gone out of practice
This very folder, becomes filled with rust
And promises that hits you like cactus

Their agenda now a rite of passage
Don’t bother to listen, there’s no message.

Vera