The imperious bow of legislature
Arcs across a Western sky
Tiny hands and feet in the prefecture
Break forth like sunrise
Wand-like, executes whatsoever arises
In their unencumbered minds
Brimming energies of youth
Carve their way freely at will
Catch shrill cries of laughter
Capitalise the playground, wherever it is.
This flipside reality plays out
Like a fantastic fairy-tale.
On this planet, the turf of man,
Some ‘Mowglis’ have brute kindred
At daybreak the gong dings for all
Off to sore chores him and buffalo,
Bound to the letter to visible or invisible masters
Nonetheless, torment, capitalist merchant
Warlord and poverty cruel proprietors of life gore.