The black dogs
still get the bones
They still bark no
worry about tomorrow
Now on the opposite
bank to watch
In the shadows
afraid to stay close
They realize the
heyday has gone
They will have to
lick their wounds
When the final
bones are distributed
They will face a
bleak future
Now they don’t care
about tomorrow
They still want to
bite and cart away
Helping the
warlords to stay relevant
Though they know
they will be history
The black dogs on the
opposite fence
They shout and show
their placards
The faces of making
fool of themselves
Doing the hard work
but get peanuts
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