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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Emotional >> ID #1454013 |
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Blood On The Soil
There's war over oil consumers will pay with time, sweat and toil at work everyday. The prices, they boil for gold that is black, there's blood on the soil in the land of Iraq. Now who gets the most from oil in the end, and who raised a toast to his good Saudi friend. Do tanks have cupholders, who will be billed? And how many soldiers will be sent off and killed? Hard times, they're comin' and things will get mean, they've got us all hummin' and chanting more green. There's those that would pale if secrets got out but no one sees jail with Swiss bank accounts. So our future looks bleak and so does our pay, so a rich oil sheik can have it his way! ![]()
© Copyright 2008 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com).
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