A rabid wolf strides the trees,
Carrying the spinning disease.
Infecting the blood Blue or Red,
Herding the headless chickens and
The ostrich that buries its head.
The wolf pays heed to no voice,
Leaving victims without any choice.
And loyal supporters lie dead
Amongst the headless chickens and
The ostrich that buries its head.
Populism freed it to maim,
To attack those lacking in blame.
And its poison will always spread
Beyond the headless chickens and
The ostrich that buries its head.
Elders, seeing this before,
Know the weak will suffer it more.
But all are cowering in dread,
Blamed by the headless chickens and
The ostrich that buries its head.
The weak are unable to tell,
They’ve no hearing, no sight, no smell.
Of their future they’ll soon be bled
Trusting the headless chickens and
The ostrich that buries its head.
And more will follow its stride,
That same disease concealed inside.
Each time to the trees they’ll be led
Behind the headless chickens and
The ostrich that buries its head.
Until a hero once more,
Stabs deep into the spinning sore.
And, after the wolf’s blood is shed,
Rescues the headless chickens and
The ostrich that buries its head.