Grappling ghouls, under creepy misrule
Of many a scam and corruption
Whip, whack and suck
The honest blood of the pauper-
Helpless, hopeless, silent countrymen.
They smell out filthy and foul reign
With perverted objectives
Piled on the stairs of rusted democracy;
Death has a violent dance
Over the bare bodies, dead or alive.
Masses are only an electoral feast
For those, white-clothed
Who revel with their sadistic pleasures
Healing their Cyclopean eyes
By making 'genie' ruin and rob them.
Riches, modesty and the unity
Of a gagged nation are being robbed
Day in and day out
While those in power, in or out
Prosper under the democratic canopy.