The crocodiles
The bites it makes
Letting the people know
They don't want to forget
They know they can't walk straight
They will try witch-craft of words
Using religion as a tool to gain
A foothold on the swampy land
They don't see the colours
The rainbow in the sky
It isn't one colour at all
But the crocodiles don't understand
The mind of one track
They can't walk straight
They don't see the dual way
They will say it is for their own
The crocodiles
The poison in their minds
The hunters will keep watching
Waiting for a reason to put them away
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