by Nick Gisburne
How blessed are the meek? The truth is: not
And some, with solid reasons, are annoyed
“You promised us the earth, but what we got
Was all the shit the powerful destroyed”
But no one cares what happens to the meek
So few of them are strong enough to fight
The voice of their authority is weak
Ignored, forgotten, driven from the light
The underclass, the peasantry, the scum
Condemned to claim a portion of the scraps
For theirs is not a kingdom which will come
Those promises were certain to collapse
The meek inherit nothing but a lie
And thousands of conditions still apply
