The Tyrants Win

Once again, the Tyrants win
Getting their way, ruling the day
And all us little people
Grains of sand upon the breeze
Just a dust speck in the eye
Of the Tyrants in their ease

There’s nothing left but suffering
Pain in every day, in every act of armless swimming
In thrashing through economy, in hungry stomachs burning
In weapons of fear, beatings, and all forced labor
A short future ride to neverland
Packed in trains or shot down on sight

Ducking under cover, hiding from the data
Every call a record, a pinpoint on a map
So when the Tyrants want you, they’ll be there
Beating down your doors just to fill their quotas
To take out another potential rebel
Or one that doesn’t worship them

And when the enemies are gone
All the outcasts wiped away
The cannibals will eat themselves
Until the world is over, gone and nothing left.