The War Drums…
I can hear the War Drums beating. In the middle of Wall Street, amidst the stench of oppression
Bright colored tents and hooded boys lurking from zipper to zipper.
Undercover cops filming the mass, reporting to bosses, who report to bosses and then their bosses. Reporting on up events that will one day have the bosses begging in the streets.
A Libyan tyrant gets beat to death and shot, but his bosses and their bosses sit untouched. I can hear the War Drums beating.
Every city people are in the know, not exactly the situation, at least not names, but they know these villains are lurking in the piles of corporations and investment banks.
Our politicians scramble to protect their bosses and they bring down the forces we entrusted with their control. Cops have become soldiers of the future, marching down streets armed with gas and clubs. Just like all preceding thugs.
I can feel the War Drums beating as blood begins to spill in our streets. I can see the War Drums beating as masses heave against the gates. I can see the War Drums beating as our bosses begin to tremble and shake.
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