Judgement Day
The judge sits high in his dark chair of wood
Aching his heart out attempting to make good
With his silver hair and his flaxen wig
He’s squatting there like a square-rigged brig
Dispensing justice to those that would
Take on the law from their neighbourhood
The poor and the lonely the sad and bereaved
Stepping out from under what little they have achieved
To be cast then into the shadow of his rules
That binds them and treats them like wrong fallen fools
What little they have has been taken away
The hope they had has now lead them astray
What now can they find from the rubble of their minds?
What direction to take when there are no more signs
The judge with his book and his mighty aggression
Is under the yoke of his magnificent obsession
Can there be any hope if their future is fear
For these downtrodden souls when their end is near
The institutions of state and its mighty elite
Do they really have interest in what lies in the street?
(2012)
The dispensation of justice has been given to "honoured" men of an inflexible society
where club rules are the only way, where the very title of Judge means that he cannot be wrong
there is so much expected of him....
Quil
11yAmazing! love your view point!