The truth is troublesome;
It pains the obsequious sycophants,
Like a sword piercing their souls,
As a saw on a board,
But I care not, for I choose their
Pangs to serve as oblation to light.
The obsequious sycophants
Are those with the minds of pandas,
Jerking along with witchcraft demagogues,
Who suck their marrows to balance
Their nutritional deficiencies,
And leave them with defective bone growth.
The obsequious sycophants
Are those dumb goats,
Tethered and foolishly regulated,
To comfortably drink their blood,
In the guise of Hollick Red Wine,
And die secretly in the mind.
The obsequious sycophants
Are those tongue-tied predators of
Truth, who justify the lies and skeletal Accomplishments of those hungry
And stingy political swines,
By stomping hard their hooves,
To conceal the truth.
What kind of a soul cherishes
The slavery of mind?
What kind of a soul prefers the
Immediate self treasury
And denies the future of its offsprings?
What kind of a soul foolishly blinds
itself to the truth?
Until these sycophants unveil their
Veils of sycophancy that tantalizes their eyes
To see the truth, and cut the Frenulum
That seizes them to voice the truth,
The nation will not prosper. No, it will;
We are ready to fight them to the bitter end.