Tuesday, March 20, 2012

it's sweeping under the carpet


It's sweeping under the carpet
The dirt that goes out of control
It hangs it out in the public
There is no answer

The only good to feed
The fodders of internal stabbing
The washing cars and the polishers
The shining bonnets the shadows smile

It's sweeping under the carpet
The newspapers pretend
There is no hound to investigate
The impartiality never the word

The civets jump over the high fence
It's sweeping claws trying to evade arrest
On to the field the sweepers watch
“Don't come to me I never say”

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