THE ABASERS

[biscuits]

THE ABASERS

Some people are a zenith
A state already preordained
Fixated as test of evaluation
One which they mustn’t fail
Or they'll heat up like the rails

Some of such specie
Joyously wine and dine
Over the heads of their man kind
Dumping their leftovers
And evacuating their bowels
On their faces
As such of their follies
They rot and smell
Oh! They knoweth not
They're such stupid bigots

They don't give a damn
About those on the ground
They smother and shred them
Till their remains become invisible
Because ownership of this world
Now becomes prior in their thoughts

Those with an iota of sanity
And a speck of humanity
Remember such state is vanity
Just like the rain from the clouds
And the river below change sides
Similarly they could become the ground's spy
Swimming in the dump and crumbs
Of their fellow abasers

In scriptures of the past
And those present with us
We've seen the end of such men
Either thick clouds, rocks or loud cries
Or total banishment from the earth
Such is their demise